Beware, Beware
by QuiMoritur
Summary: "Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes..." Welcome to the Imperial Province of Skyrim, where dragons have returned from eons ago and terrorise the land. The Dragonborn of legend trains with the great Greybeards on the Throat of the World, and when a dragon attacks Whiterun Hold, he feels that it's his duty to leave his monastery and assist the province. The catch? He's fifteen!
1. 1: Journey's Beginning

**Dragonborn**

Sivaas Ah, Nord male, 15

Brown hair, ice-blue eyes

One-handed, Swords (Thu'um, Basic Destruction, Basic Restoration)

Light Armour, Shield

[X] Dark Brotherhood [X] Thieves' Guild

[X] Legion [X] Stormcloaks

[O] College of Winterhold [X] Companions

[O] Dawnguard [X] Volkihar Clan

[O] Ysmir, Dovahsebrom [O] Thane (any Hold)

It was different, at first. Being Dragonborn, that is. I was under the tutelage of the Greybeards, too weak to kill a dragon and too powerful for my masters to let me go roaming Skyrim alone. The few words that I knew were gracious gifts, given by the old sages to me as a welcoming present. They had given me their knowledge, the worth of which was not lost on me. It was information, and information was more valuable than any old treasure I could unearth in some ancient fane. So I stayed at High Hrothgar for months, watching helplessly from the Throat of the World as the dragons burned Skyrim. On the occasional forays into the Rift and Falkreath to get food and other supplies, I gauged the feelings of Skyrim, and found them terrified of their own doom. Giant, immortal fire-breathing lizards roaming the land unchecked tended to do that to most folk.

My mother had dropped me on the steps of High Hrothgar when I had just been born. She was a Nord, but refused to show her face or give her name, simply thrusting the bundle of baby and rags into Arngeir's arms and fleeing down the mountain. Klimmek, a villager in Ivarstead who had since grown too old to make the trip, was making a delivery of supplies to the monastery when he found her, frozen to death. So the Greybeards had raised me, sensing a destiny unlike any other. When I had accidentally released the tempest of rage resulting from a tantrum in a directionless Thu'um, they realised who I was. I was - I am - Dragonborn.

When I met Paarthurnax, he had simply flown down into the courtyard and introduced himself. It was early, when I was only six. He had frightened me terribly until I was ten, and that was when I had my first real conversation with him. I immediately took a liking to him, then; he was warm, friendly, and wiser than all of the Greybeards put together.

So the Greybeards and their master had taught me, and done an excellent job of it. I was more than prepared to leave by Last Seed, but they kept me up on the mountain. They said that I was not ready, could not muster my Voice to kill a dragon. So I stayed, and trained. I shouted at the mountain peak and slew countless ethereal copies of the Greybeards, honing my swordsmanship and powers. But I knew there was more for me. There was so much more.

I only had just grasped the meaning of _yol_ when a courier came to the monastery, crying for the aid of the Dragonborn. Whiterun had been attacked, and it was burning. A dragon was burning the Hold, and the entire legion of guards in Whiterun had been unable to kill it. Wound it? Yes. Bring it down? No.

I was sitting outside, breathing the clear mountain air. The taste that the firebreath left in my mouth was unsavoury, to say the least, and no amount of mead could fix it. So I breathed deeply, and cleared my head. My eyes closed against the rising sun, and I leaned my head back against the weathered stones. It was an excellent spot for meditation, and I had once spent an entire day out here before Wulfgar retrieved me for dinner.

I didn't smell the smoke right away. The odour was pungent, but the more local taste of flame drowned it out, and it wasn't until it irritated my lungs that I began to look for its source. I moved to the edge of the snow-covered rocks, being careful to maintain my footing. That's when I saw the massive pillars of smoke rising out of the distant city, far below. The _clip-clop_ of hooves reached my ears, and I turned just in time to see a bleeding man, bent low in his saddle, ride to the front steps and collapse off of his horse. I rushed over, cradling his head in my hands as blood dribbled from between his lips.

"The Dragonborn... Where is the Dragonborn?" he coughed, leaking his lifeblood into the virgin snow.

"I am he," I whispered, releasing him to reach for a bandage in my pack. "Hush, and let me heal you."

"No," he wheezed, staying my hand. "Go... Whiterun, attacked. A dragon... burning everything. Only the Dragonborn... only you can defeat it. We cry for your aid, Dragonborn. Go, quickly..."

The man's eyes glazed, and all I could do was watch in horror.

"No... no! I see it - him - and he comes for me! No! No! The World-Eater, devourer of souls! Leave me! Leave me in peace!"

The courier slumped suddenly, and he was dead. I knelt there, staring at the man. He was demented; Alduin was not here. Or perhaps the legends were true, and he really did devour the souls of those who visited Sovngarde. Either way, there was a more pressing issue.

I ran full-tilt back inside the warm monastery and shouted. I shouted for Arngeir, for anybody. Einarth came, worn robes flapping and alarm springing to life in his kindly eyes. I gripped his shoulders desperately, letting the words go as fast as they would come.

"Whiterun's been attacked. The entire hold. Dragon, burning everything. They need me! I have to go!"

He shook his head quickly, and motioned for me to follow. I stood in the centre of the room as he fled to find Arngeir, torn. Should I abandon them for a short while and go? Should I discuss the situation and let the dragon kill more people? What should I-

"Dragonborn! Sivaas!" Arngeir cried, bursting through the doors to the courtyard. Paarthurnax was outside, and Borri held the metallic doors open so that he could lower one magnificent golden eye to the opening.

"What is it? What has happened?" Arngeir queried, and I repeated the crisis to him. His face darkened, and he stood taller, shoulders set. He was going to _argue _with me.

"Sivaas, you cannot go. What can you do that an entire legion of guards cannot? If what the courier says is true-"

"I can slay that dragon!" I screamed, waving my arms. "They could not kill it because they don't have the Thu'um! I can kill it, I can! I know I can! Just give me a chance!"

"Absolutely not!" Arngeir barked, displaying an uncharacteristic sternness. Well, maybe that wasn't so odd for him, but he hadn't been this way much.

"You are not ready to face a dovah," Paarthurnax rumbled, shifting his weight. "Hin zul los ol sahlo ol yunkliinro. You are still weak, Dovahkiin. Kendov tol los zok mul dreh ni krif."

_You are as weak as a hatchling. The warrior that is strongest is the one that does not fight._

"Am I? Am I weak? How would you know, eh? You've never seen me in combat, and I haven't used my Voice to fight yet!"

"We know," Arngeir snapped, "because we are the stronger Voices. We are the better warriors. It is difficult to know what the limit is to your skills when you have not reached them, Sivaas."

"Then let me test my limits! How can I prove that-"

"_Nahlot!_" Paarthurnax roared, anger briefly flashing in his voice. High Hrothgar fell silent, except for the whispering wind. "Enough of this dilah, this bickering. Sivaas Ah, you will stay. It is a great hormun, a great tragedy, that Whiterun has been attacked by a fellow dovah, but til los nid hi vis dreh. There is nothing you can do."

"Lot In do dii in," I said, calming myself and honouring the dragon, "I simply wish to help my people. If someone were to attack the Greybeards, would you not defend them? Would I not defend them?"

_Great Master of my masters..._

"Vahzah, but I am sahrot and you are sahlo. There is a difference, Sivaas."

I muttered curses under my breath.

"What is the point of my name if I do not hunt?" I screamed, storming off through a side hall to the room that I owned. My armour was strewn around the small space, a testament to my meager skill with smithing. The cheap iron was dented in several places, and I hated it for its inadequacy.

I was inadequate as well. What was I doing? I was Dragonborn; it was my birthright and my duty to defend powerless people against dragons. And here were the very people dedicated to helping me in this task _stopping me from doing it_! I kicked at a breastplate, producing a hollow _gong_ as it skidded across the stone floor. Collapsing on my bed, I let out a cry of frustration. Why were they stopping me? I could do it! That dragon would be dead in less than an hour!

It wasn't until a gust of snow blew in through the window that I realised the shutters were open. I rose to shut them, then stopped as a mischievous smile spread across my face. If I was quiet...

An hour later, I was on the trail down to Ivarstead, and nobody was the wiser.


	2. 2: Fahulkaal

The horse was skittish at such a strange-smelling human trying to ride him, but I had no other choice. If I was to make it to Whiterun, I had to be swift, a kind of swiftness that going on foot simply did not provide. I reasoned to myself that I would bring the horse back and maybe even pay the owner some compensation out of the gold I would surely gain from slaying such an infamous beast. The bounty must've been climbing into the millions by now, right?

I left at two hours past noon, and didn't arrive at the front gates of Whiterun until nine o' clock that night. I was haggard, worn-out, and more hungry than a starved troll. I left the horse at the stables, dropped three coins into the confused stablemaster's hand, and staggered up the road. Even in my exhausted state, the dilapidated state of Whiterun was evident. The walls were crumbling, and columns of smoke still rose from fires inside the city. From the weary expressions of the guards, they'd been on duty for days, compensating for their fallen comrades.

I wasn't aware of the gate guard until he stepped in front of me, barring my path. I slid my gaze upward, taking in the burns and dried bloodstains in his ragged armour.

"City's closed with the dragons about," he stated simply. I stared dumbly at him for a long time before I croaked out my message.

"I need to see the Jarl. I am Dragonborn."

The guard laughed.

"For one thing, kid, I wouldn't let a grown man in, especially not to see the Jarl, and especially not if he claimed to be Dragonborn! Ha!"

I slowly turned to face the dusky sky, and murmured the most impressive word I knew, concentrating on its meaning;

"_Fus._"

It had the desired effect; a roiling ball of air burst out of my throat and into the night sky, briefly illuminating the road and the guards with its accompanying tendrils of power. The man was slackjawed as I pushed my way through the heavy wooden gate.

The city was just as scarred as the guards. Entire buildings had burned to the ground, while others had flames licking at their sides. People rushed everywhere, bringing buckets of water from gods-know-where to throw haphazardly at the hungry fire. A mage rushed around, giving frantic orders and spraying any flames he came across with a gust of icy wind from his palms. An alchemist hurled potions in a vain attempt to quench the fires that slowly engulfed her shop. As the heat became too much for her to bear, she backed away, tears streaming down her face as she screamed for help.

The image was seared into my mind, horrifying me. It was a terrible tableau of pain, caused by one creature. How could just one monster cause all this?

Doubt dragged my feet to an abrupt halt, and fear dug its frigid claws into my head. I wasn't prepared for this. I wasn't prepared. The dragon was enormously powerful, that much was evident. What was I? A kid, running around with a swelled head and a loud mouth, literally.

The lights of the palace twinkled ominously on a raised bit of land, deeper in the city. I made my way there, dodging guards and townsfolk. When I slumped against the doors, too weak to open them, a guard did it for me, concern flashing in his eyes for the child that was panting heavily from the short climb, and whose face was paler than the flagstones.

The throne was empty, and for a second I feared that the Jarl was dead, and my plans were going to be altered drastically. But then I saw him, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire that dominated the centre of the great hall. His children were with him, and he spoke warmly to them, ruffling their hair and kissing their brows frequently. A Dunmer dressed in black armour quickly moved to intercept me, drawing her longsword and holding out a hand that crackled menacingly with sparks.

"Hold there, boy," she spat contemptuously. "What are you doing in here? The orphanage is in Riften."

"I'm here to see the Jarl, and I didn't know Vivec had changed its name to Whiterun," I shot back with equal venom, weariness almost forgotten. If this bitch was going to take cheap shots at me, she wasn't going to get out of it unscathed.

"Watch your tongue, lest I run you through and leave your corpse for the vultures. I am quite sure the Jarl will not worry himself over one dead brat while his city _burns_!" she hissed, drawing closer and hefting her sword.

_ Well, then._

I raised my hands in a concilatory gesture and backed off fast.

"I simply wish to speak with him. I'm willing to wait, but..." My stomach growled, puncuating my sentence for me. She raised a chiseled eyebrow, then roughly sat me down at one of the round tables pushed up against the wall and laid a bowl of soup on the wooden surface.

"Eat," she muttered. "When Jarl Balgruuf is finished with his dinner, then I will request an audience for you. Be warned," she said, moving in close again. "If you so much as breathe incorrectly in the Jarl's presence, I will not hesitate to gut you. Am I clear?"

I nodded, slurping the warm soup gratefully. It was chicken with some kind of dumplings and a bit of seasoning that gave it a salty, delicious taste. It was quite good.

When I awoke two hours later, I was in a comfortable bed, without any of my armour or clothes. I stretched, smiling sleepily and relishing the relaxation that came from a good sleep. Then I remembered where I was, and leapt out of the bed, on high alert.

_How did I get in that bed, and where are my clothes? If that soup was drugged, there will be a reckoning here that's not from any dragon,_ I thought, mind racing. I made a mental list of everything I had brought. I dropped into a crouch, grabbing a blanket from the bed to ward against the chill and moving over to the door. It was locked.

_Damn it!_, I muttered, falling back to the bed and thinking hard. Was there a word that Paarthurnax had taught me that I could use as a Shout, and a preferably quiet one? I ran through my mental compendium of Dovahzul, searching, searching...

"_Bex daar miiraad,_" I whispered, calling upon my power and directing it at the door. With a click, it swung open, revealing the top loft of Dragonsreach. Good, I hadn't been taken anywhere strange. I moved out onto the balcony, looking briefly down at the empty palace.

The roar didn't register until its source had crashed through the roof of the hall.

Splintered wood and other debris flew everywhere, and when it cleared, a bronze dragon lay curled agonisingly in the middle of a crater of its own making. The dragon was wounded in several places, and glared angrily at the front doors as they swung wide, revealing a horde of shouting warriors that stormed through the foyer, waving steel swords aloft.

The dragon inhaled, and let out a tortured _Yol Toor!_, burning the space where most of the warriors had been before. Some had the sense to dive to the side, but a goodly portion of them were incinerated on the spot. As soon as the dragon made sure the warriors weren't coming out from their cover anytime soon, it - _he_ - immediately turned his gargantuan head to look at me. His emerald, intelligent eyes bored into mine, and I recoiled.

"Drem, kiir. Zu'u seik hi nid arx," he rumbled, staring down a guard who had shakily gotten to his feet.

_Peace, child. I mean you no harm_, I translated, peering fearfully at it. The Greybeards were right; there was no way I could kill this thing. It was massive. I could fit perfectly between its sharp teeth and die in an instant. It could roast me alive or simply crush me with a single flap of its tail. But it said it didn't...

"Meyz! Mu dreh ni lost tiid wah fey!" he cried, getting to his feet and inhaling deeply. I realised what he was doing a split second too late; he Shouted at the balcony, and it fell like a dead branch off of a tree.

_Come! We do not have time to stay!_

As I fell towards splintered spears and my certain doom, I saw his maw opening and flashing towards me. I screwed my eyes shut, resigned to my death. When I jerked to a stop, they flew open in confusion. I wasn't dead.

The dragon's ragged, warm breath washed over me, and I shivered. Too close! He had nipped at the blanket that I had wrapped myself in, and was now carrying me with it. How quaint. Too bad I was going to die in the next few seconds from friendly fire. The guards were picking themselves up and rallying.

Before I could even say anything, the dragon took off, rising with bone-jarring flaps through the massive tear in the palace's roof. As soon as he had enough altitude, he tipped forward and slid through the atmosphere like a stone across ice.

The night air was bitingly cold, but the proximity to the dragon kept me warm. We flew for only a few minutes before we reached some eyrie on a small mount, still in the plains. The dragon lowered me carefully to the ground in a clearing that he had obviously been sleeping in, and flew off again.

This was surreal. I had come to Whiterun to kill a dragon, then passed out and been taken by one. I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but that was unneccessary; with the dragon's heat gone, the cold tucked into me nicely, and I was shivering in a trice.

I wrapped the now-threadbare blanket around my shoulders tighter. Where was that damned dragon when I needed him? He was undoubtedly male; his voice was deep, and his warlike demeanour was incriminating all by itself. But there was something else, something I had discussed with Paarthurnax; I could feel the pulse of his soul as it fuelled his body, and I could sense the general colour of his emotions when he was near. It was "malur do hin sos," as Paarthurnax would say. "Part of my blood."

The dragon returned a half-hour later to find me bent desperately over a small, pathetic pile of smouldering deadwood. He gently laid down a leg of deer, and casually felled a tree, then carved it into a massive pyramid of logs. It was fascinating, watching a dragon work with the utmost care. It was actually pretty funny as well. He erred once, and snapped a bit of trunk in two. He snorted, and he squinted at the logs, as if examining them for fault. I snickered into my elbow, but quickly silenced myself when he turned to look at me. After a few seconds, he began to make a sort of jumping growl, and I realised he was laughing as well.

The dragon finally lit the huge bonfire, and I hurried over to the sudden rush of heat and light. I fumbled with the words through thawing lips and a dulled mind, but I finally managed to speak his tongue.

"Zu'u los zonox wah hi."

_I am grateful to you._

The dragon seemingly waved me off, and turned his head amicably.

"Nii lost ni buruk, ahrk gah nii lost drun hi laas. Zu'u los frund."

_It was not difficult, and yet has brought you life. I am glad._

I was surprised. Weren't dragons supposed to be stone-cold killers? What was with this one? I sat in silence for a while before I dared to speak again.

"Fahvos... fahvos lost iidah tol hiim?"

_Why... why were you attacking that city?_

The dragon snarled, and I shrank back. He noticed, and his brilliant eyes immediately adopted a worried, apologetic cast.

"Drem. Zu'u los ni rahgron voth hi. Nii los daar muz tol Zu'u los rahgron voth. Zu'u lost... Zu'u los ni dovah tol ag niist hiim, nuz nust lorfonaar tol Zu'u lost. Zu'u simply came wah miik dii freyend."

_Peace. I am not angry with you. It is those men that I am angry with. I was... I am not the dragon that was burning their city, but they assumed that I was. I simply came to offer my assistance._

What in Oblivion...? It - he wanted to help? Why? How?

"Fahvos fund hi laan wah hiif daar jul?"

_Why would you want to help those humans?_

"Ha. Hi tinvaak ol waan hi los ni gein."

_Ha. You speak as if you weren't one._

I chuckled ruefully.

"Dreh hi ni honah fos Zu'u los?"

_Do you not sense what I am?_

The dragon perked up and scrutinised me.

"Hi... vokorasaal. Hi nis kos!"

_You... impossible. You cannot be!_

I laughed again.

"Zu'u los. Zu'u los Dovahkiin. Dii for los Sivaas Ah. Fos los hin, dii saviik?"

_I am. I am Dragonborn. My name is Sivaas Ah. What is yours, my saviour?_

The dragon stared at me for a few more seconds before lying down again. He sighed, blowing sticks and dirt away from his snout.

"Zu'u los for Fahulkaal."

_I am called For-Eternity-Champion._

I whistled. It was a lofty name, that was sure. His very name meant that he would succeed for all time. Lofty, indeed.

"Faar tet. Dreh hi lahney vok wah nii?"

_A lofty title. Do you live up to it?_

Fahulkaal rumbled with mirth, disturbing the flames and sweeping them backwards.

"Zu'u fend hind ful. Voz, fos dahrin fund Zu'u lost wah for dimaar daar?"

_I should hope so. Else, what reason would I have to call myself this?_

It was my turn to laugh again, and I did. Despite my limited command of the language, I could still converse easily, and there was nothing a dragon loved better than conversation. And there was nothing I loved better than conversation.

"Fahvos drey hi unad wah sav zey? Til lost ben do vorey tol hi vust lost hiif."

_Why did you choose to save me? There were hundreds of others that you could've helped._

He rolled his shoulders, which I took to be a shrug of sorts.

"Zu'u chose hi fah ziin dahrin. diist los tol hi los kiir, ahrk kiir los zok ves do naan reyliikro vahmaan. ziist los tol hi lost nunon nahl nahlrii Zu'u vust gaav wah tol wasn't unt wah kriin zey kolos Zu'u lost."

_I chose you for two reasons. The first is that you are a child, and children are the most precious of any race's members. The second is that you were the only living being I could get to that wasn't actively trying to slay me where I was._

I bristled a bit at the child remark, but appreciated his compassion. Paarthurnax had implied that most dragons were feral and bloodthirsty, which evidently wasn't the case.

"Zu'u los orin zuk zonox wah hi, ruz. Nox hi. Nuz Zu'u los ni exactly kiir, los Zu'u?"

_Then I am even more grateful to you, then. Thank you. But I am not exactly a child, am I?_

Fahulkaal rolled his head to one side to look at me with one vermillion eye.

"Orin waan Zu'u lost wah urzun hin bok naal hin siifur reyliikro qurnen, hi los kiir. Zu'u lost lahney fah ton do eruvos, fos dreh ni hiif hin hiitir, dreh nii?"

_Even if I was to determine your age by your own race's standards, you are a child. I have lived for thousands of years, which does not help your case, does it?_

I huffed, and he let out his rolling, growling chortle. We were silent for a while longer, basking in the intense heat of the bonfire. Apparently I felt like I could trust him, because I eventually fell asleep there, my head falling softly onto the tops of my knees.

**A/N: **Hello, dear readers! Sorry I didn't attach a note to the first chapter; I'm a bit pressed for time right now. This is a commissioned story for one of my friends; he wanted to have a younger Dragonborn that had to actually learn and train to be able to kill dragons, instead of practically spending thirty minutes with Arngeir to train. When I sent him this chapter, he just texted me with,

"You kidnapped the Dragonborn with a dragon. Congrats."

Aah, I've got a good bit of writing in me for this. Rate, review, tell me how I'm doing... or don't. The quest is still probably going to sit in your journal, though. Next chapter on the way!


	3. 3: Pruzah Feyl!

The twittering of birds woke me, and I immediately shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand. My neck and back ached, and the slight chill in my bones indicated that the fire was no more. Fahulkaal was gone, but he had scratched a small message into the mountainside.

_ Zu'u bo wah nir. Dreh ni lif. Til los kendov jaald ziin tren jer. Waan hi hu'um frey, for dii for voth faal Zul. Hin Fahdon_

_ I go to hunt. Do not leave. There are warriors camped two miles east. If you require assistance, call my name with the Voice. Your Friend_

I smiled. Here was somebody I could actually trust, and he apparently made for an excellent travelling companion, unlike the Greybeards or Paarthurnax.

_Paarthurnax!_ I screamed inwardly, skin crawling. He would be flying over every inch of Skyrim regardless of the dangers, looking for me. Arngeir would try to leave, but wouldn't be able to make it past Ivarstead. He would find me eventually, and I dreaded that day. It might be today. He might kill Fahulkaal!

Without thinking, I called his name, and the Thu'um blasted the morning air before I could stop myself.

_Damn_, I cursed, slapping my palm against my face. _Now I have to explain why I called him._

In the distance, a distinctive roar echoed across the plains, and I recognised Fahulkaal's voice. It would be a pain, but at least I could say good morning. It was only a few minutes before he arrived, but when he did, he hovered overhead, scanning every shadow and crevice. When he found nothing, he looked at me, puzzled.

"Pruzah feyl!" I chirped, getting up and moving back to the absurdly large pile of ash that still gave off small vapours of heat.

_Good morning!_

"Pruzah feyl, Sivaas. Fos los diron? Zu'u dreh ni koraav naan folaas."

_Good morning, Sivaas. What is the problem? I do not see anything amiss._

"Zu'u nunon laan wah saag ahnok. Krosus..."

_I just wanted to say hello. Sorry..._

I bowed my head, the very picture of innocent remorse. He tittered, landing with a _thud!_

"Niidro peh bek. Zu'u lost do daal. Kendov lost zofaas hond pah do kred fah tren voth niist honaht."

_It's quite alright. I was about return anyways. Warriors have scared away all of the game for miles with their noise._

I grimaced. I had gone hunting near Falkreath once, and a group of partygoers on the road had driven off foxes, deer, and anything else with a mind to run at the first indication of human proximity. It was terrible, and you generally ended up feeling like beating the source of the racket mercilessly. Hunting was an arduous endeavour, and having it mucked up by some two-piece drunk Nord was as low as it got.

"Zu'u los krosus. Aalkos mu fend wundun? Zu'u dreh ni med tol mu los ful strin wah Whiterun voth vorey dovah ahstaad lov."

_I am sorry. Perhaps we should continue travelling? I don't like that we are so close to Whiterun with the other dragon somewhere near._

Fahulkaal wrinkled his brow.

"'Whiterun?' Fos los 'Whiterun?'"

_'Whiterun?' What is 'Whiterun?'_

I frowned. _There must be an existing word for Whiterun that I don't know._

"'Whiterun' los hiim mu nunon bovul nol."

_'Whiterun' is the city we just fled from._

Fahulkaal's expression melted into understanding, and then mirth.

"Dovah lost rot fah 'Whiterun, ' Sivaas. Nii los 'Ahrolsedovah.'"

_The dragons have a word for 'Whiterun,' Sivaas. It is 'Hill-Of-Dragon.'_

_Ah_, I thought. _That makes sense. 'Hill-Of-Dragon...' Dragonsreach. Makes sense._

"Zu'u los krosus. Zu'u lost ni ahmiinaal tol til lost rot fah Ahrolsedovah."

_I am sorry. I was not aware there was a word for Whiterun._

Fahulkaal chuckled, then moved so that his head was next to where I was sitting. He gazed warmly at me, friendly as if we had known each other for years.

"Dreh ni friikir. Hin vankar do mindah los vahk folov, to hi tinvaak dovah vun pruzah ganog nalkun. Fund hi med zey wah mind hi?"

_Do not apologize. Your lack of knowledge is easily remedied, although you speak the dragon tongue well enough already. Would you like me to teach you?_

I nodded, surprised. Having not one, but two dragons as teachers would be an interesting prospect, to say the least. Both were almost infinitely wise and compassionate, although Fahulkaal possessed the second trait in a greater quantity than Paarthurnax, and vice versa.

"Gah aanvorey truk Zu'u lost wah kos zonox wah hi fah, dii fahdon."

_Yet another thing I have to be thankful to you for, my friend._

He grinned cheerily.

"Nii los nid. Nii los ni buruk fah zey, gah nii los ves wah hi. Thuz, Zu'u los skildir wah birgah daar mindah wah hi, los Zu'u ni?"

_It is nothing. It is not difficult for me, yet it is invaluable to you. Thus, I am obligated to provide this knowledge with you, am I not?_

I returned his smile and wrapped the blanket closer around myself. I needed new clothes, and definitely a new set of armour.

"Ful kolos fund hi med wah bo?" he inquired, shifting a bit to loose a stone on the ground that was digging into his abdominal scales.

_So where would you like to go?_

I thought for a moment, then decided.

"Markarth," I said determinedly. I'd never been before, I'd heard it was a smithing city, and it was one of the farthest cities from the Throat of the World.

"'Markarth?'"

I grumbled. Yet another incongruous comparison. I ruminated on possible meanings for 'Markarth,' then tested one.

"'Golzewer?'"

_Stone-In-The-West?_

Fahulkaal burst out into deep, gravelly snickers.

"Geh, Golzewer. Ko faal Hiiv."

_Yes, Markarth. In the Reach._

I gave him an odd look. Had I mispronounced a word or something?

"Zu'u lost. .. Zu'u lost 'umaak' til, voth wuth lokalin."

_I have... I have a 'record' there, with an old lover._

I blushed and looked the other way. So all he remembered about the Reach was when he bedded a she-dragon. Fantastic.

"Il mii bo, ruz!" I cried, standing dramatically and attempting in vain to gather the deteriorating blanket around myself.

_Let's go, then!_

"Damn it," I muttered. The Reach was cold. It was _cold._ Some tattered piece of cloth didn't ward off the low temperatures, but Fahulkaal helped by occasionally breathing a gout of fire ahead of us, briefly warming the air. Still, I was shivering, and I was reasonably sure that my lips had turned blue.

The noonday sun was hiding behind a cloudy grey veil when Markarth came into view. I shouted for him to land, and he did. I braced myself for the impact, but I wasn't taking my numb fingers and limbs into account. I tumbled roughly off of his back and onto the hard stone, crying out when I felt something _pop_ in my shoulder.

"Sivaas!" Fahulkaal shouted, quickly turning around and lowering his head to where I was, worrying and fretting. I was a heap on the ground, my teeth gritted and tears streaming out of my eyes.

By the gods, it _hurt_. My shoulder was out of its socket and it _hurt_. The pain emblazoned itself on the forefront of my mind as I writhed on the cold rock, and the cold was banished, replaced by the fevered heat of agony.

"Vahraan," my companion breathed, letting his Voice wash over me.

_Heal._

My shoulder popped back into place, and I saw stars. The pain vanished like candle smoke before a gale, and my back arched involuntarily as I returned to my senses. After a minute of lying there, I sat up and shivered again.

"Kogaan, dii fahdon."

_Thank you, my friend._

He nodded gracefully, then quietly set some brush alight. I rolled over to the blaze, extending my chilled hands toward its light. We were silent for some time, but then he spoke.

"Fos fent mu dreh?"

_What shall we do?_

I thought for a bit. There was no way that I could convince anybody that Fahulkaal wasn't a threat to Markarth, and for all I knew about him, he might be. A flare of suspicion rose in my throat, but I quelled it. He had given me no reason to distrust him.

But be that as it may, there was no way that he could get anywhere near the city, and I daren't walk there, both because I would likely freeze to death on the way and because of the Forsworn. Occasional forays into the holds that neighboured High Hrothgar gave me somewhat recent news, and I'd heard of the Madmen of the Reach. They waylaid people on the road, and sometimes attacked cities. Karthwasten, a small village, was hit the most because of its direct connection with Markarth.

"Zu'u los ni pahsunaal."

_I'm not sure._

I started to try to say something else, but realised that I didn't have the necessary vocabulary. I was limited to basic conversation, and I considered asking Fahulkaal if he could speak the common tongue. But I didn't want to inconveninece him. But I couldn't speak Dovahzul that well...

"Do you speak the common tongue?" I blurted, shamefacedly looking away. I didn't like admitting that my knowledge had limits, but it did, and it was evident.

"I do, but not well," he rumbled, a twinkle of mirth in his eye. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"If I walk to Markarth - _Golzewer_ - then there's a possibility that I'll freeze to death - _diin_ - on the way. Also, I might be attacked by the Forsworn - _vorohah-muz_. The only weapon I have is my _Thu'um_, and that won't be enough. Do you understand?"

"Hrm... _Geh_, I do. If you walk, you will... ah, what is the word? _Dir_... die?"

I nodded, glad.

"Then I will fly you," he declared, rising.

"No," I said, shaking my head quickly. "I won't be able to convince the guards that you aren't a _duaan-dovah_; a devouring dragon. They will assume that you are about to attack - _zahkein_ - and react accordingly, even if I speak to them and demonstrate that I am Dragonborn. It might even cause them to distrust me as _Dovahkiin_ if I'm with you. Do you understand?"

He settled down, brow beetling.

"_Geh_... _Geh_, I do not like it, but I understand. I cannot fly you, and you cannot walk. How will we get there, _ruz_? We have no way to reach _Golzewer_."

I stared into the burning bushes, almost beseeching them for answers. Then, an idea. Half-formed, and probably doomed to fail, but the best chance we had. The best chance _I _had.

"Zu'u lost aan zaak," I announced, turning to face Fahulkaal with a mad grin.

_I have an idea._

* * *

**A/N: **Whoops, I lied. The cover character won't be appearing until _next_ chapter. My bad. ^ ^"

In case I messed up somewhere with Fahulkaal's description, he's basically the same colour as Odahviing, but with a more bronzy tint. There ya go. If I ever screw up any details or make some kind of mistake in the writing, please don't hesitate to tell me. I can take criticism!

You guys know the drill; read, rate, review. Onwards to Markarth!


	4. 4: Not Too Shabby (Sivaas Silver-Tongue)

"Daar los naariv!" Fahulkaal grumbled, banking left gradually to avoid a spire of rock. We were flying straight for Markarth, and he didn't like my plan at all.

_This is crazy!_

He was going to throw me into the river Karth, right outside the city. From there, I would rush inside and play the part of "traumatised attack victim" and get free quarter and food for a week at whatever inn was in the town. _Perfect_.

The only tricky part was landing in the river and not hitting a rock or something. I knew how to land correctly from tall heights, but if I did this wrong or landed a half-metre too far, I was dead. I could try to become ethereal with _Feim_ the instant before I hit the ground, but the sound would carry and the guards would definitely notice. So this was a precision maneouvre.

Fahulkaal had already assured me that he would be fine in the Reach alone, and told me to call him if I got into trouble, regardless of the dangers to him. I agreed, but resolved to leave him out of whatever conflicts I managed to instigate. His blood would not be on my hands because I was too weak to end a fight.

I dangled halfway out of his mouth, and he was taking extreme care not to bite me in two. He tried to say something, but he couldn't speak clearly with me obstructing his speech.

"What?" I shouted over the wind.

"Gol-he-wer! Hraal!"

I assumed he said, "Golzewer! Thral!" because he spit me out and immediately reared upwards, roaring his challenge.

_Markarth! Jump!_

I immediately turned to face the ground, arms outstretched. It was a few hundred metres out and I was falling fast. The river glittered appealingly beneath me, and I grinned. I was in the perfect position. Thank you, Fahulkaal.

I was only ten seconds away from impact before a lesson that Paarthurnax had taught me resurfaced in the blink of an eye. Time seemed to slow, and the flashback returned, unbidden.

_We were sitting outside, in the courtyard. I was huddled over the fire, and he was curled languidly over the other side of the flames. I had just broken my fast, and his breath reeked of goat._

_ "If you were falling from a great distance and you could fall into a tree or into water, which would you choose?" he asked suddenly, cleaning his claws in the snow._

_ It didn't even take me a second to determine my answer._

_ "The water," I said, confident that I was correct._

_ "Then you will die a painful death," he rumbled, turning to face me. I was shocked._

_ "But the water is an excellent place to land!" I argued. "It's less dense than the tree, and it gives me a significant amount of space to disperse my momentum once I've fallen in!"_

_ My master sighed._

_ "While this is a mystery, water is not so. If you were to collide with unbroken water at the speed that you would be travelling should you fall from a distance, it would be no different than attempting to land safely on a rock." He held up a winged hand, forestalling my inevitable questions._

_ "I do not know why it is so, only that it is," he said, gazing at a distant silver ribbon of river, far below. "I have long suspected that it is associated with what water's intrisic structure is; that is, what it is made of and how it is made. But know this; the tree, even though it will be painful, will not kill you. The water will."_

_ "However," he rumbled loudly, drowning out more of my inquiries, "If you were able to break the water with something larger than yourself before you hit it, then the water will react as you previously expected."_

_ "Ah," I said, absorbing the information._

"Ah, damn!" I screamed, recalling the information. The water was only a few metres away, and I did the only thing that I could.

"_Fus Ro Dah!"_

The Thu'um impeded my progress and slowed me down some, but I still fell. The sphere of compressed air barely touched the surface of the water before it churned it into a massive tempest of flying water. The dirty river water flew up into beautiful droplets before it began to fall, and I fell with it. The water was still being forced away from the Shout when I passed harmlessly into the frigid river.

I slowly floated back into consciousness, my head still swimming and my entire body screaming with soreness. I sat up groggily, looking around and taking stock of myself and my surroundings.

I was in a small stone room with one exit, no windows. The only light came from a few candles, and there was detritus scattered all over the room. The exit consisted of a large metal door, orange and carved with some kind of linear design.

I was sore, but I was warm, fed, and clothed in a light green tunic and a pair of comfortable fur shoes.

_Guess I made it_, I thought, rising off of the uncomfortable stone bed, covered in furs. _Unless Sovngarde happens to resemble an inn_.

Tavern babble filtered through the door, and I carefully opened it. I was indeed in a tavern; drunk townspeople and guards were laughing over tankards and bottles, beggars sat in the doorway, begging for a coin, and bards sang merrily, adding a lyrical sweetness to the unruly din.

An old innkeep noticed that I was standing in the hall, and quickly served the rest of his drinks. When nobody was asking him for another round, he hurried over, wiping his hands on a cloth slipped into his belt.

"You're awake," he said, smiling warmly. "Can I get you anything, milord?"

I fumbled with my reply, and he gently clapped a hand on my shoulder, steering me to an empty barstool. He grabbed a bowl and asked for a boy not much older than me to fill it. Judging by their resemblance, they were father and son.

When the son poured hot soup into the bowl, he whispered in my ear,

"Hell of a fall. Are you okay? I've been tending to you for the past few days, after the guards brought you here."

_Past few days?_

"How long have I been out?" I demanded, standing. The boy drew back, shocked at my reaction. I felt a stab of remorse, but I would smooth things over later.

The innkeep held up his hands nonthreateningly and spoke soothingly.

"Just three days. You took one hell of a fall after that dragon let you go. To be honest, I'm not sure how you're still alive."

I settled back down and apologised, then began my questions, for which I was famous among the Greybeards. Always with the questions.

"What happened after I fell?" I queried between mouthfuls of soup.

"Well, the guards say that there was a huge impact; they felt it through their boots. They assumed you were either dead or dying, but some of the villagers that live outside fished you out of the river after the dragon left. The guards were boasting about how they had managed to hit it with a few arrows, but I saw the thing for myself. They couldn't do a damned thing to it, and they didn't. Shame."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Fahulkaal was okay. That took one load off of my mind.

"But the townspeople told the guards that you were alive, and they brought you here. My son's been tending to you for the past few days. You've been travelling for a while without proper gear, haven't you?" he said, looking at me for an answer.

"Yeah," I replied, looking down at my soup.

"Where did the dragon pick you up from? Where did it attack?" the son asked in a fearful murmur, sitting down at the stool next to me. The father looked to me for an answer again.

The lie came to my tongue easily.

"I was travelling with my parents, just coming into the Reach from Whiterun. They're... they were merchants, see, and the dragon just..."

I bent my head, and shook my shoulders a bit, simulating tears. Gods, this was great. I felt a little guilty for lying, but if I got free rooms and food for this, I was going to milk it for all it had.

"It killed them... ate them. I just stood there... I was too weak, I couldn't do anything!" I cried, balling my fists. The son compassionately placed a hand on my back, pity dancing like a forest fire in his brown doe eyes.

"Nobody could've done anything," the father said reassuringly. "There was nothing to be done. It was a dragon, and if you had fought it, it would have killed you as well. There is no shame to be found in your conduct."

I composed the next part of my farcical play.

"It picked me up... thought it would just bite me in half... but the Companions came and started attacking it, so it picked up and left... flying back towards its roost, I guess. Then it saw _Golze_- Markarth, and headed in that direction."

_Damn it. I need to be more careful; one slip of the dragontongue here and I'm getting a shave from the headsman._

"'Golze?'" the son queried, looking to his father. The father just shrugged and looked back to me.

"What were you about to say?" he asked, leaning on his elbows.

I hurriedly let another falsehood fly.

"It's Dunmeri," I said, thinking hard. "It means Markarth. _Golzethi_. My parents... my _adopted_ parents were dark elves."

Now this would've been stretching it had these two not been so damned gullible. Apparently people will believe anything in the wake of something fantastical.

But both father and son were flabbergasted, and implored me to tell them more. So I wove a huge web of deceit about my Dunmer parents from Windhelm. They were merchants, traders. They sold goods from Morrowind; jewelry, tools, weapons, books... anything to keep our tenancy in the Grey Quarter. But taxes started increasing, and we just couldn't afford to live at the Cornerclub anymore, so we left, on the road to Whiterun. We saw a dragon, but it left us alone.

"I should've seen it as a bad omen," I sighed miserably.

We stopped in Whiterun for the night, but couldn't afford to stay at the Bannered Mare, so the Khajiiti traders were kind enough to let us share their hearth for one night. When we awoke the next morning, the same dragon attacked Whiterun, nearly burning it to the ground. We fled for Markarth, cursing our luck.

"And it was right as we made it to the Reach that... that..." I burst into tears and sobbed into my hands. Suddenly I realised that most everybody in the tavern had stopped to listen to my tale of woe.

_Oh, fanTAStic. Now I actually have to keep up with all of this dung that I've just smeared. Great._

People started making me offers. I looked up, startled. They were offering me gold, tutelage, even adoption. People proffered me their blades, their armour... the list went on and on. Some scantily-clad young lady even offered me her company, winking as her heavy Cyrodiilic accent wafted around the room. There were a few catcalls, but I thanked her for her... generosity.

I sat and talked for an hour or so with anyone that wanted to talk, secretly enjoying my brief celebrity status. It was nice, to have people look to you with hope and perceived glory in their shining visages. If they knew I was Dragonborn...

_If they knew I was Dragonborn, they would either praise my name in the streets or make my blood run in them_, I thought. That sobered me, and I made some excuse to retire to my room. I needed to look around Markarth, see what I could ask for and see what I could take.

I made a mental list of what I needed.

_Food, weapons, armour, maps, a few books, camping gear, and a journal_.

But how to get out undetected? Most everybody in the city now knew my face, my stature, and my voice. It was almost nine o' clock at night; if I didn't hurry, most shops would close and I would be forced to steal. I didn't want to, but if I had to...

Again, I returned to my limited vocabulary. The small repertoire of words that I possessed could potentially get me out of this...

"_Iliis_," I breathed, crouching. I felt wispy tendrils of smoke cover me, and when they cleared, only a small distortion in the air remained where I was. It took a bit of energy out of me, but I was still good to go.

_Hide._

Getting out was easy now.

The smith's shop was open-air, and thus very easy to steal from. The smith herself was enough to deter any thief regardless of greed. She was an Orcish woman, with arms bulker than some of the guards. She constantly smelled of ash and metal, and her voice was more hoarse than Fahulkaal's. She glared at you in a way that made you feel insignificant, but if you complemented her work, she somewhat reservedly would gush over her pieces, which were indeed fine.

Right, armour. That's what I meant by pieces.

Anyways, I made it to the smithery undetected. When I drew near, I tapped a piece of metal, discharging the enchantment into it. The smith had already heard me coming.

"You need practice," she growled, turning to face me with a steel axe in her hands. I raised mine and backed away.

"I'm just here to buy some armour," I said cautiously.

"Oh," she huffed. "I'm closed for the day. Go bother somebody else."

I frowned.

"What if I repaid you for whatever I bought?"

"That's generally how trade works, kid," she quipped, returning to her forge.

"I meant..." I intoned, drawing closer. "What if I repaid you with a piece for whatever you gave me?"

"I'm not giving you anything, so scram... wait, what?"

"I'll give you whatever I can smith in return for a set of armour and a weapon."

She laughed outright.

"Get lost. From the look of you, you can't even make a hunting knife, much less something worth an entire set of armour and a blade."

"Oh, really?" I said lowly, picking up a hammer. She looked sideways at me, wariness springing to life in her black eyes.

"If you're planning to hit me with that, I hope you can do it before this axe finds your neck, and Malacath help you if you don't kill me on the first swing."

"I was simply going to ask if I could give you an example of my work," I sighed, outwardly exasperated and inwardly thrilling with fear. This woman would kill me without a second thought.

She moved aside, the mocking grin returning to her face.

"By all means."

I worked for three hours, forging a breastplate. It was made of steel, and I designed it with a fusion of ancient Nordic smithing and modern steel armour in mind. I'd seen both, and both had excellent designs. So the resulting piece was indeed fine, despite my less-than-masterful talents.

I looked back, presenting the armour to the smith. What met my eyes was comical; she'd fallen asleep, leaning back in a chair against a pole. But this was my chance.

"_Gebild!_" I barked, directing the Shout at the armour. The power sunk into the metal, and it groaned as the armour became denser, stronger. Tendrils of some black metalloid twisted like living things up from the sides of the armour, then became still. The end result was beautiful, but the effort had taken a lot out of me. It took me a second to recover from the vertigo.

A crash behind me signalled the woman's awakening. She got up quickly, and came over with an irritated light in her eyes.

"Well? Are you done ye..." she demanded, but her voice died in her throat as she beheld the armour. It looked pretty damn good. She took the breastplate almost reverently into her hands, then snapped her astounded gaze back to me.

"Who taught you how to do this? This is a technique that even my masters didn't know," she demanded.

I grinned, ready to deliver my bombshell of a lie.

"I taught myself."

She squinted suspiciously at me, but kept my work.

"Take whatever you need. I'm going back to my home. If I find more than a set of armour and a weapon missing when I get back tomorrow morning, there'll be Oblivion to pay. Understand?"

I indicated that I did, then got what I needed and left. Leather armour, a steel shield, and an iron sword? Not too shabby.

* * *

**A/N:** Damn, I lied again. I'm almost as compulsive as Sivaas. Adopted Dunmer parents from Windhelm? Seems legit. Cover character is definitely appearing _next_ chapter. Trust me. Truuuust me.

Ah, I'm having quite a bit of fun with this. Sivaas is an idiot, by the way; he could've just kept that awesome breastplate that he somehow managed to forge, and then cheated with. (The _gebild_ Shout was something of a metaphor for the console. At least I didn't give it the power to do its killing, if you know what I mean. :D )

Read, rate, review. I promise the story isn't a Quest Item; you can get rid of it if it makes you feel too heavy.

...Just ignore my bad jokes from here. I'll be putting enough of them in through Luvaasunil. Wait, shit! Spoilers! _Spoilers!_


	5. 5: It Is As It Should Be

Sleep didn't come easy that night, and when I finally drifted off, it brought terror and visions.

_A hill with a curved wall, engraved with scratches and intricate designs. Around the hill, violet fog roiled, devouring the line of travellers that tried to rush through it. They reached towards a bridge of bones and a huge hall, glowing with golden light. A tall man stood in front of the bridge with a large axe, barring a black shadow's path. The shadow roared and took flight with jagged, malevolent wings, turning back towards the fog. It dipped and dove, catching the travellers in its maw and swallowing them whole. It roared with the voices of a thousand dragons, then alit on the wall at the top of the hill. It turned its spiked head towards me and, with luminescent, evil red eyes, called,_

_ "Zu'u los saraan, Dovahkiin."_

_ I am waiting, Dragonborn._

I jerked awake, throwing off the furs and managing to knock my head against the stone shelf that was mounted over the bed. I swore and laid back, rubbing my now-aching forehead and pondering the significance of the dream.

"What was that about?" I said aloud, trying to keep the dream in my memory, but to no avail. Parts slipped away, and I was frustrated at their absence.

The entire building shook violently, and I rolled off of the bed in fright. A familiar, yet unfamilar roar echoed throughout the streets of Markarth, and screams followed in its wake. The sounds of a dragon attack were quite audible.

I grabbed my gear in a frenzy. I was the only person that could help them, and if I didn't, Markarth would end up like Whiterun, except there'd be less smoke and a whole lot more rubble. As I reached the inn's door, I skidded to a halt, doubts returning in full force. A simple three-word Shout had taken me out for days. What would I do against a dragon that consistently Shouted four and five-liners?

Get help, that's what.

I rushed out of the door, juked around an archer on his last two arrows, and vaulted over an upended cart. I burst out of the main gates, which already had marks of a recent fire bath.

"_Fahulkaal!_" I cried, letting the name roll forth and explode into the morning air. The guards that nervously held their posts at the gate clutched their ears as the Shout reverberated inside their iron helmets. I winced. It wasn't a nice feeling.

The guards recovered quickly enough, however, and one stepped forward. I cut over the beginning of his question and immediately began to give instructions.

"There's another dragon coming, but it's _here to help,_" I shouted as they gave cries of dismay.

"What? Kid, if we have another dragon on our hands-"

"_Listen to me!_ The next one is here to help us, alright? If you attack him, _I will kill you_. Understood?"

The guards, still unsure as to who I was, shuffled uncomfortably, but nodded. I turned to go back inside the city, but one stopped me.

"Who are you?" he asked in a small voice. His partner nervously nodded his assent. Who was I?

"I am Sivaas Ah, the Dragonborn," I stated simply, resuming my jog.

Fahulkaal came half an hour later. The guards had spread the word; attack the green one, not the reddish-copper one. He landed on the wall, searching for me. I waved my arms, and got his attention.

"What is happening, Sivaas?" he rumbled, mouth open in a snarl.

"There's a dragon attacking, and we need to help," I yelled, hefting my heavy steel shield. "I'd bet my last septim that it's the one that attacked Whiterun."

The attacker wheeled overhead, obviously startled at the appearance of another dragon. Fahulkaal squinted at the flying dragon, trying to see who it was.

"I... _krosus_, Sivaas, but I do not recognise him. He is a _sos-dovah_, a blood dragon. Vampiric. Stronger... much stronger than I. Can we _viik_ - defeat - him?"

I nodded confidently, betraying none of the fears that still plagued me.

He glanced at me and chuckled.

"The colour of your _zii_ betrays your _faas se dovah_, Sivaas. But it is no matter. Come, let us strike down our foe!"

I nimbly hopped up a pile of rubble to climb onto his back, and the instant I was on, he launched himself into the air. When we were at a good altitude, both the attacking dragon and Fahulkaal circled each other, eyeing the other dragon warily.

"Fos los hin foraan?" Fahulkaal roared, continuously banking.

_What is your name?_

"Zu'u los for Luvaasunil!"

_I am called Musical-Voice-Void!_

Luvaasunil banked hard, flapped once, and rose above us, maw open and flames licking in his throat. Fahulkaal dived, hurtling downward as a fireball flew over us, singing my hair and heating my face. I broke into a sweat.

"Fos fend Zu'u dreh?!" I shouted, twisting to keep my eyes on our enemy.

_What should I do?!_

"Zaan, Sivaas! Zaan!"

_Shout, Sivaas! Shout!_

So I waited until Luvaasunil was within range, and then I made my move as Fahulkaal made his.

"_Yol... Toor Shuul!_" my friend bellowed, a torrent of light bursting forth from his ivory teeth and reaching ominously towards Luvaasunil.

"_Fus... Ro!_" I shouted, and watched with satisfaction as the compression sped forth like a boulder. I swayed a bit on Fahulkaal's back, but recovered just in time to witness our success.

Both hit the dragon at the same time, and there was an audible impact as the air was punched out of him. He stopped dead in the air, then fell to the ground some three hundred feet below.

_Now is our chance._

I bid Fahulkaal to land, and he did. I slid off of his neck, then rushed over to the clearing outside Markarth, where Luvaasunil had landed. He was thrashing feebly, flames occasionally slipping out of his mouth, which was agape. His eyes were clouding, and his breath came in short, agonising gasps.

The closer I got to him, the more his emotions flooded into my mind.

_Arghk, they actually hit me, knew I should've dodged-_

_ We actually hit and downed a dragon, an accomplishment indeed-_

_ Oh good, one of the _muz_ is here. Maybe I'll have one final meal before I die-_

_ Oh damn, he's looking at me. He's turning, oh gods-_

Luvaasunil suddenly snapped at my ankles, but I danced away, breathing hard. My vision was doing something strange, I was breaking out into a cold sweat, and I kept hearing these whispers...

_Damn, I missed. What are these whispers I keep hearing? It's almost like-_

_ Where're these whispers coming from? It's almost like-_

_ It's almost like I can hear his thoughts._

_ It's almost like I can hear his thoughts._

We both recoiled, staring at the other with trepidation and fear. I felt him make a tentative probe into my consciousness, and I did the same. What he found was obviously enough to spook him, and he forced me out.

_He's Dragonborn he's going to kill me he's going to devour my soul Akatosh help me-_

_ He's a dragon he's going to kill me he's going to devour me Akatosh help me-_

Fahulkaal gently nudged my shoulder, making me jump. A crowd of onlookers had gathered; apparently word had spread that I was the Dragonborn, and they wanted to see me kill a dragon. They'd already seen my Thu'um.

"Do it, Sivaas, and let us go," Fahulkaal murmured, withdrawing to a respectful distance.

I unsheathed and raised my sword, staring at the serpentine head of the dragon below me. Luvaasunil grew still and opened one pleading, silver eye.

_Please. Don't._

I faltered for a split second, but then his memories of the savage joy of killing the people of Whiterun and Markarth surfaced for an instant. I drove the sword downwards into his skull with a sickening _crunch_, shouting with the sudden effort.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the townspeople and guards cheered. They roared their approval, their support. They were ecstatic that nobody else had to die because of this beast. They were happy.

I was not.

This dragon, my kin... I had just killed one of my own. Did he deserve to die for what he did? Yes. Did I want to be the one to kill him? No. Not now, at least. Paarthurnax had taught me that all life was to be valued, and any death was to be mourned with the utmost passion and respect, especially if that life was taken. This heinous act flew in the face of everything I knew.

While the townspeople cheered and raved, I sank to one knee, tears spilling out of my wide eyes. I felt hollow, and the world went grey and silent as the shock and heat of battle faded and an immense grief replaced it totally and fully.

_What have I done...?_

Fahulkaal exhaled deeply, ruffling my hair and surprising me. He shed a single crystalline tear, then blinked.

"Nii los ol nii fend kos," he intoned mournfully, dipping his head as if in prayer.

_It is as it should be._

Then, a single percussion that made everything and everyone go silent. They all stared at Luvaasunil's corpse, which had begun to glow and burn. His scales and flesh started to flake away in embers, floating up into the sky. Then, through the holes that his departing body made, ribbons and wisps of silvery energy curled and roiled, desiring freedom.

My vision tunneled and darkened, and I stared at Luvaasunil's body as it decomposed before my eyes. Then, a sound like a rushing gale filled my ears, and the ribbons of life suddenly sprung from the heap of bones and raced towards me.

The impact of the power knocked me off of my feet and threw me a good five metres back. I hit the ground, but didn't feel it; my air was knocked out of me, but I didn't hear it; I was staring into the sky, but I didn't see it.

My entire body was tingling, and the rushing sound was getting louder... and louder... and I felt something like a worm puncture the membrane of my consciousness and settle in the back of my mind. I felt new power, new life, flow through my limbs. My weariness vanished like shadows before dragonfire, and my wounds immediately closed and were no more. I felt my eyes throb, and for a second, I saw the image of Luvaasunil staring back at me from the sky above.

Then it was over. I got up from my position on the ground, feeling like I'd just rested for days. I felt invigorated, powerful... _good_.

Fahulkaal approached me somewhat cautiously.

"What... what just happened?" I gasped, enjoying the delicious feeling of air in my lungs.

"I... I am not sure. If you are truly Dragonborn, then..." My friend glanced warily over at the still-steaming pile of remains.

"I believe... _hi du ok si_."

_You devoured his soul._

The words were damning, and also pleasing. It meant that I was finally coming into my own as _Dovahkiin_, and also that I was a murderer; a slayer of intelligent life, and my own kin, no less. This... this would take time to heal.

"Let us go, Sivaas," Fahulkaal murmured again, dipping his neck so I could mount him. When I clambered up and got in place, the townspeople oohed and aahed. The guards were squinting suspiciously, hands on their blades.

I gave an awkward wave, then whispered,

"Bo, fahdon se dii hil."

_Go, friend of my heart._

* * *

**A/N:** Ahahahahah, what are feels? Because I just stabbed mine repeatedly.

In actuality, I'm a good seven chapters ahead of this; I'm only getting my internet back now, so I'm uploading in a frenzy. Any suggestions? Any pointers? Any errors that in my massive fit of stupidity, I failed to notice? Tell me! Also, my friend, the guy that commissioned this, is practically rolling around on his floor. Apparently he loves it. Woo, getting paid **_triple_** my normal rate! Thanks, Sivaas!

But yes, Luvaasunil is the _dovah _on the cover art. Still no word on who it belongs to; if you know, pipe up and tell me!

Considering taking Sivaas and Fahulkaal to Solstheim at some point. I don't have the Dragonborn DLC myself, but I've read about it and it seems pretty cool. Having Miraak stealing a soul from Sivaas would be hilarious to write. ^ ^

Read, rate, review, turn this in to Delvin for a variable amount of gold, etc.


	6. 6: Musical Voices in the Void

The flight north was uneventful at best. We saw no dragons, only a single merchants' caravan, and no shortage of bandits and other unsavoury characters. I was still coming to terms with what I'd done, warring with myself. I was silent and turned inwards until we landed on a windy mountaintop, next to a curved wall.

I sucked in chilled atmosphere.

_It was the same wall as in my dream._

I dismounted Fahulkaal as if in a daze and moved over to the wall, brushing snow and dirt off of the engravings. They were the written form of Dovahzul. I turned back to my friend, who shook himself like a dog. I chuckled as he snorted, then asked my question.

"What are these?" I queried simply, pointing at the wall. He lifted his head, peering curiously. He read the inscription and replied in a somber voice,

"These are the ancient _graadstaad_ - graveyards - of the Nords. They contain the bones of both _dovah _and _joorre_, and are great sources of _suleyk_ - of power - for you. However, I do not know why, or how."

He frowned.

"Let me try something."

He motioned for me to move out of the way, which I did. He took a deep breath, rearing his head, then let his power out, extending his neck and thrusting his head forwards.

"_Genun hein sovenne!_" he roared, blasting the weathered wall with his Thu'um. For a moment, I feared the old thing might crumble, but the sphere of power was drawn towards some type of crest that protruded from the wall. When it came into contact with the crest, it was taken inside the stone, and the dragontongue inscriptions began to glow with an icy blue radiance.

After a minute or two, all of the words ceased glowing but one. It reached out to me with tendrils of information, and I reached out to it. Suddenly, I was pressed up against the word, and I stared into its light, soaking in its meaning. The wall whispered a secret to me, the truth of the word, and I listened hard.

_Iiz._

_ Iiz._

_ Iiz._

_ Iiz._

_ Ice._

_ Ice._

_ Ice._

_ Ice._

When the wall told me nothing else and stopped whispering, I sat down, exhausted for some reason. Fahulkaal was laying in the centre of the flat peak, watching me closely. I called to him, too tired to get up.

"What was that?"

He rumbled. "It is a gift from your _meyrre_ - your ancestors. I do not know how you will use it, but cherish it. It is no small feat to _ofan mindah yahv fin eruvosse _- to give knowledge across the ages. Perhaps the _zii se Luvaasunil_ will help."

I stiffened. Was that what it was? That thing in the back of my mind?

I reached inside myself, looking for that thing that had entered my mind.

_Luvaasunil? _I called inwardly, half-expecting an answer.

_I am here, Dovahkiin_, a tired, but still musical voice replied.

"Gah!" I cried, jumping and floundering uselessly on the ground. What in Oblivion...?

_I'm ashamed to be slain by such a weakling,_ the voice snarled, and something curled up in my mind. I _felt _it.

_Excuse me for being startled at somebody else sharing my consciousness,_ I snapped.

_You are excused_, he said, then snickered at his little joke.

_Why are you still here? I thought I killed you._

_ Ah, that's the tricky part. Absorbing a being's soul means you get the full parcel, not just their knowledge. Is that what Paarthurnax said? Bastard was always too soft for me._

I bristled. Paarthurnax had said that I would get the dragon's knowledge, but he had never elaborated on the subject. He was a bit of an ass.

_So... are you going to give me your knowledge, or do I have to take it?_

_ What makes you think you need it? I might not even have ever used _Iiz _in a Shout before. You've trained to understand words by yourself before. Most of the time, actually, if I'm not mistaken. So why rip my memories and intelligence from me?_

_ Because you deserve it._

_ Do I?_

_ You've killed thousands of people, judging from _your _memories._

_ And this justifies my complete eradication how...?_

_ Because you have to pay the price for what you've done!_ I snarled, slamming my fist into the ground angrily. Fahulkaal was watching with no small amount of amusement.

_And why should I? I needed to survive! It's not like I can creep delicately into those adorable kindling piles you call homes and gently prick someone's finger! I need blood, and a lot of it. I was hungry._

_ So kill wildlife._

_ Why, so you can complain about me killing off all of your game?_

Fahulkaal snorted with laughter and immediately hid his face behind a wing, sniggering quietly.

_Do something other than 'kill humans,'_ I growled.

_Ah, I wasn't aware you had anything against the mer races. For a second there I thought your high-and-mighty air was legitimate._

Fahulkaal burst into loud snickers.

"You," I yelled, pointing a finger accusatorially at my companion. "better watch your scaly ass."

He simply laughed even harder.

_Having a good time, are we? _I snarled at Luvaasunil.

_Oh, the best, the very best. I should try dying and having my vital essences devoured more often, _he quipped, eliciting roaring bellows of mirth from Fahulkaal.

_You two... _I grumbled, pinching my nose. Evidently they were toying with me, and I didn't like it. At all.

_Are you going to give me your knowledge of _Iiz _willingly, or do I have to take it from you?_ I stated menacingly, bracing myself for a fight.

_Keep your trousers on, I'll give it to you. On one condition,_ he said smoothly.

Let it be said that I _tried_ to be civil before I obliterated this cheeky bastard forever.

_What is your condition?_ I asked condescendingly.

_That you don't wipe me off of Nirn entirely. I want to travel with you, _he declared.

_What? Why?_

_Because you took my freedom from me, Dovahkiin_, he said, sobering up. _You took from me what a dovah values most, and it is within your power to return it to me, albeit in a roundabout fashion. Will you do this, or will we have a test of our wills?_

Before I could answer, he cautioned me.

_A struggle of our minds is not one that you would win, Dovahkiin. I have been alive for thousands of years, and I am immensely powerful. You will not survive another conflict with me._

The answer was clear, but Fahulkaal put it simply.

"Til los nunon gein tirahk ven, Sivaas. Choose wisely, for if you choose incorrectly, it will mean your death. Remember what I have done for you, but choose however you wish."

_There is only one safe path._

_ Indeed._

_ Fine, then_, I muttered. _I won't exterminate you entirely. You are free to travel with us. The instant that I even suspect that you're about to try something, I will _end _you. Am I clear?_

_Crystal._

_ Alright, then._

* * *

**A/N:** Bwahahaha! Return of Luvaasunil! Ah, I love it.

**Spoiler alert:** He's going to be a pretty large protagonist for the rest of the story, or at least for most of it.

**Other spoiler alert (read this one):** There's an idealogically-sensitive chapter coming up next. If you're planning to give me gip over it, feel free to shut the hell up and find the door. _**I'm not playing around**_; the first person to complain about the next chapter is getting my foot up their ass. FanFiction doesn't really try to protect visitors' IP addresses. Food for thought. This is the only chapter that I'll ever say this about; _If you're planning on being a dick, f*ck off now._

Now that I've gotten that out of my system, rate, review, and most importantly, read! There'd be no reason for me to write this (aside from the money, of course) without you, dear readers! So continue on, if you dare!


	7. 7: My Long-Forgotten Love

This son of a bitch never stopped talking. Ever. It didn't matter what I did, or what I threatened him with. He always had a line or a deadpan for everything. He was a trickster, a fool. And he was actually nice company. We stayed at Eldersblood Peak for a few weeks, recovering from the Markarth shenanigans. During that time, Luvaasunil got to know us better, and we got to know him better. At multiple points, he had both Fahulkaal and I rolling around on the ground, wheezing with laughter.

_Is it going to get crowded in here? It's getting ripe as is_, he said with mock exasperation, miming tugging at his collar. He visualised himself as an ethereal, cartoonish version of his draconic body, and I could always perceive him in the different parts of my mind. At one point, he started playing tricks with my vision, and I almost fell off the mountain. It was scary at the time, but not even ten minutes later, we were all laughing about it.

Fahulkaal hunted frequently, and when he brought back more mountain goat than even he could eat, Luvaasunil sent me an image of himself pushing back from a dinner table, abdomen comically distended from overeating.

_Uuuugh... I think I had too much_, he groaned, tipping himself over in the mental scene. Fahulkaal could perceive the same things if my mind-partner let him, and we both died laughing.

When another dragon, pale white and one nobody knew, flew over the peak in a hurry, Luvaasunil briefly seized control of my arm and mouth.

I - he - waved "hello" with big, childish sweeps, and cried "Hail, mighty lizard!" in a loud voice that kept cracking. The dragon gave us an irritated look, but continued its flight east. As soon as I could, I snatched control back and shut out everything else, boxing Luvaasunil in a rock-solid cage of thought.

_If you ever pull that again, we'll see exactly who'll be winning that contest. Understood?_

He sobered instantly and apologised gracefully.

_I understand. _Krosus,dii fahdon. _Apologies, my friend._

_You don't have to translate everything from Dovahzul to the common tongue, _I muttered.

_Apparently_, he said, as casually as if he was checking a timepiece,_ I do._

Luvaasunil had opened a link to Fahulkaal once more, and my companion burst into quiet chuckles again.

One quiet night, we were all staring at the heavens, taking in the beauty of the stars. We were all silent, lost in our own thoughts and as peaceful as we could be in this time of strife.

_I used to be a bard,_ Luvaasunil murmured, watching the slow turn of the sky.

It surprised me. _Dragons have bards?_

_ Well, yes. Did you think we were all dashingly handsome and clever, but had no culture?_

I rolled my eyes.

_Do you mind if I give you a rendition of a song I used to know?_

_ As long as you aren't about to spoil my mood._

_ No. This is a good song._

So he sang in a deep, rich, quiet voice. It was laden with grief for a time long past, and longing for life. It was melancholy and beautiful and I loved it.

_Far over the misty mountains cold_  
_ To dungeons deep and caverns old_  
_ I must away, ere break of day_  
_ To find my long-forgotten love._

_ The pines were roaring, on the height_  
_ The winds were moaning, in the night_  
_ The blood was red, it, dripping, spread_  
_ His eyes like torches, blazed with light._

_ Far over the misty mountains cold_  
_ To passions deep and bonds so old_  
_ I must away, ere break of day_  
_ To find my long-forgotten love_

_ The men were roaring, on the height_  
_ And I knelt, moaning, in the night_  
_ His blood was red, he, grieving, pled_  
_ For me to flee, away from the dead._

_ Far over the misty mountains cold_  
_ To cairns too deep and grief long told_  
_ I must away, ere break of day_  
_ To find my long-forgotten love._

_ The dead were roaring, beneath the wight_  
_ I fell forward, filled with fright_  
_ My courage fled, I lost my head_  
_ But he was still there, and gave me life_

_ Far over the misty mountains cold_  
_ To those who weep for mourning souls_  
_ I must away, ere break of day_  
_ To forget my long-lost love._

I sniffed a little, wiping away a tear.

_That was beautiful, Luvaasunil._

Fahulkaal nodded in agreement, turning his huge head away to let his tears drip into the snow.

My friend was quiet for a while.

_It is about two lovers. One dies in one of your wars, and he is buried in a crypt. When the widower returns, he finds the crypt filled with the undead, and he loses all hope. But his lover returns, and gives up his soul so that the widower may remain alive. It is one of the saddest tales that I know._

I was slightly confused.

_Where is the woman? You only used male pronouns._

Luvaasunil sighed with the exasperation born from a thousand conflicts.

_That was the point. The two lovers are male. That is one of the many reasons why this tale strikes a chord in the hearts of the dovah, Sivaas. The _joorre_ are not as accepting of differences as the dragons are. The two men were Nords, the hardiest and most resistant culture in all of Tamriel. They were spurned and exiled for their love because their rulers feared tradition and what they did not understand._

I paused, unsure of myself.

_The two men were lovers? How...?_

_ That is not a technicality that I wish to discuss, but know this; they loved each other very much, and one gave all that he was for the other, right down to his very existence on Mundus. That was the extent of their devotion for one another, and they were constantly hated for it. That is why this is so sad._

Another tear slipped out of my eye, and I brushed it away.

_Why? Why does this happen? Anything that does not conform... is it simply thrown away? Ground out?_

"That is how human and mer societies have operated since before the _dov._ Anything that does not conform to their traditions is _fusk tir_ - cast out. And one day, Sivaas... after, _if_, you fulfill your purpose, this will happen to you. With the ancient legends fulfilled, nobody in Tamriel will have any use for you as the Dragonborn, and they will drive you away. Remember this."

I packed my things the next day, and we left for Morthal. It wasn't very far, but it was still a few hours' flight, so I took the opportunity to learn more about the different cultures of Tamriel. When Luvaasunil tired of my questions, we were silent for a few minutes. A fresh oddity reoccurred to me, and I thought about it while the _dovahsonaan _'recovered' from my persistent questions.

Both Fahulkaal and Luvaasunil had been unusually quiet and somber ever since the dragonbard (there would be jokes aplenty later) had sung his tale of the two lovers. I wondered at the change's significance, trying to determine why it had impacted them so. The tale was very sad, yes, but they acted like they were in mourning. Apparently I had less of a grip on my thoughts than I believed, because Luvaasunil answered my question unbidden.

_I knew them personally, _he said quietly, barely withholding a torrent of grief. _They were two of the most valiant, strong warriors of the age. They were courteous, kind, gentle, and generous. They gave what they had to the needy, and protected the weak from the corrupt. They were the best of you mortals, and you spurned them and left them to die._

I was shocked.

"It's not like I personally did anything to them," I murmured, trying to console the bard.

_No, you didn't, but it was your damned race! It was your people, your culture, that did it to them! They were the best of you, and you let them die! You killed them, as surely as if you had done it with your own hands! This! THIS is why the dragons are forced to attack towns and cities! Because of you! You stupid, foolish, insectile, arrogant, short-lived, self-destructive, caustic MORTALS are why I am like this! Why Lucas and Grelund were driven out of every city they visited! Why they were forced to take up mercenary work to survive! Why Grelund died on the plains! Why Lucas almost died in Grelund's own tomb! Why Grelund had to sacrifice his very essence to save his only friend and comfort! Why I was cursed doubly with immortality and vampirism! Why I now ride in your small, insignificant mind so I don't disperse into the aether! Why I will never forgive any of you! This is your fault! ALL OF IT!_

If I was shocked before, a lightning strike couldn't have surprised me more at this instant. Luvaasunil was seething with rage and grief, a dangerous and explosive combonation. He was coiled into a hatred-fuelled knot, and he broke off contact with me, speaking only in terse, concise sentences with Fahulkaal.

I withdrew into a small, ashamed ball. It was my fault. I was Dragonborn; what the Nords had been waiting for. They'd been waiting for me to eradicate the dragons whenever they returned, and the dragons didn't want to fight. Sure, they may have tried to dominate the Nords _thousands of years ago_, but my guess was that most of the ancient dragons had realised their mistake, but couldn't stop attacking because they were, in turn, being attacked.

This entire war was my fault. All of it. The Civil War was because of _tradition_, and I was a part of that tradition. The Nords believed that the Dragonborn existed to rid them of dragons. The Imperials believed... well, other than that they believed that Skyrim was still an Imperial Province regardless of the Nordic ways, I didn't know what they believed. But it was the Nords' legends that were the problem.

"This is too complicated!" I screamed, looking for a way to vent the building frustration and confusion. Everything felt _wrong_ because of all this conflict. And this conflict was because of me.

Fahulkaal understood perfectly.

"Would you like me to land someplace?" he asked quietly, and I nodded vigourously.

He swooped down to a clearing, and I made sure that there was nobody around.

We were in the south of Hjaalmarch. Great pine trees rose from the virgin snow like monoliths, testaments to a time long past. The road was a few miles north, and a spine of mountains rose only a few miles to the south. This was perfect.

I dismounted and immediately moved to the centre of the clearing, preparing myself. I started to draw my sword, but stopped once I realised that I would probably dent and chip it beyond repair on the adamantine-like bark. So, I did what the Greybeards had taught me to do; I vented my anger with the Voice.

"_Fahvos dreh daar koros?!_" I roared at the trees, and my Thu'um blasted the snow off of the branches, swaying the ancient guardians of the forest. The flurries and drifts that were falling gently from the cloudy sky made way for the Shout like peasants diving out of the way of a king's procession.

_Why does this happen?!_

"_Kozeim Usnutiid, kul muz ahrk miilah los _krii_ dahik do _hjatir_!_"

_Throughout History, good men and women are _killed_ because of _tradition_!_

Another rupturing of the calm of the forest, and more white snow was blown away.

"Vik _hjatir! _Vik _daar wo ris sahvot ko hjatir!_"

Damn_ tradition! _Damn_ those who put faith in tradition!_

The air rent itself again, and a few branches snapped from the trees. I heard animals cry out from miles away and flee their dens, and my vision flickered as my head spun. But I wasn't done yet.

"_Waan anahlri los _hinskaal _ganog wah ris sahvot ko hjatir, rus aal Oblivion bex einzuk, ahrk aal fin Deyren Drog kuz niin rigir tum wah niist viilt praav!_"

_ If somebody is _stupid _enough to put faith in tradition, then may Oblivion reopen, and may the Daedric Lords drag them back down to their rightful home!_

I dropped to one knee, wheezing for breath. I couldn't stand, and I was almost out of strength. Fahulkaal nudged my shoulder and said,

"That... is enough, Sivaas. You have made your poi-"

"I'm not done yet!"

He withdrew, and I shakily stood one last time.

"_Waan Zu'u los wah kriin faal dov, ruz nii fen kos dahik Zu'u _laan_ wah, ni dahik Zu'u _lost _wah._"

_ If I am to slay the dragonkind, then it will be because I _want_ to, not because I _have _to._

I barely kept myself from collapsing, and I distantly heard Fahulkaal impore me to stop. But I felt Luvaasunil watching with a mixture of approval and intrigue, partially emerging from his cloud of hate.

"_Ahrk Zu'u _volaav_!_"

_And I _refuse_!_

The last thing I remember before blacking out was Luvaasunil, quiet and grateful beyond measure.

_Thank you, Sivaas._

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, so what I said in my note last chapter still holds.**  
**

**I realise the debate over the 'correctness' of homosexuality is still raging, but this is the Internet. I'm allowed to say what I want through whatever medium I want. Even if you aren't irritated with me personally, if someone decides to give me shit over the content of this chapter, make like the Neanderthal you are and leave quietly. Don't like it? The solution is in the upper-right corner of your screen. It's a button, labelled 'X.'**

So I did a lyrical remix of 'Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold' for this, because I love the melancholy tune and the lyrics to the original. I don't own the original song, but I do take ownership of my lyrics. Use them wherever you want, and you don't have to give me credit. But whatever.

Sorry for casting the hard light of reality over these last two chapters; I've had gay friends that've dealt with caustic parents and asshole people that decided to give them shit over who they were. This wasn't some kind of political message; it was an attempt to highlight perceived differences in dragon and human/mer/beast-race cultures. Please don't stretch this any farther than I already am.

Back to frolicking in Hjaalmarch!

A Dragonborn, refusing to kill dragons? What's the world coming to? Probably a fiery death or something. *cough*_or something_*cough*

Read, rate, review! Or don't!


	8. 8: I Could Be Tiber Septim, Probably

_Alok, Sivaas! Rise! We are under attack!_

I bolted up from my bed under the snow, which was actually quite warm. I stood instantly, ripping my sword from its sheath on my back and grabbing my shield from where it was strapped to my scabbard.

Nothing was there. It was the same clearing, except with the signs of devastation that I wreaked with my tirade. I frowned, confused.

_Luvaasunil, what-_

_ Move towards the road, _quietly.

I did, being as stealthy as I could in armour and snow. As I went, I kept my eyes peeled for anything unusual, but there was nothing.

Not even Fahulkaal.

_Where is-_

_ Go! Sivaas, run! Go to the road!_

As I went, I called up one of the most basic shouts I knew.

"_Laas,_" I whispered, and grunted with satisfaction when small pinpricks of light sprung to life ahead, indicating that there were several somethings alive. They were flitting around a giant light, almost like a bonfire - _Fahulkaal!_ - and swinging their arms.

"No!" I screamed, redoubling my efforts.

_At this pace, you will not make it!_

Unbidden, a word leapt to my mind, a word that I was taught long, long ago.

"_Wuld!_"

Immediately, a cyclone of air formed under my feet and shot me forward, sending me flying like an arrow into the clearing where the Companions were attacking Fahulkaal. He showed obvious restraint, not wanting to kill them, but I could tell that they were about to force his hand.

"Stop!" I wheezed, out of breath. Not a single one noticed. I sucked in a huge gulp of air and roared.

"_STOP!_"

The snow settled, and the Companions actually stopped for a split second. There were two twin brothers and a middle-aged, redhaired woman, and they all stared at me, backing away from the dragon. A slightly metallic taste registered on my tongue, but I ignored it.

Fahulkaal shuffled away as well, growling.

"What is the meaning of this?" the woman demanded, eyes flicking back to my friend.

"The _meaning _is that this dragon hasn't attacked anyone," I snarled, deftly stepping between them and Fahulkaal.

"And how would you know, hm?" the short-haired twin said, marching forward. He stopped right in front of me and glared venomously. "You've kept a detailed record of its whereabouts and actions?"

"I've been travelling with _him_. He is no savage beast; he's an intelligent creature, more so than you or I."

"He speaks _vahzen_ - truth," Fahulkaal rumbled, coming forward. They all hefted their weapons and backed away, but he sighed irritably.

"I do not mean you or your kind _arx_ - harm."

"Sure put up a damn good fight," the long-haired twin muttered. Fahulkaal swung his head to the Companion, anger dancing in his vermillion eyes.

"I 'put up a damn good fight' because to not do so would have meant my _dinok!_ Would you not defend yourself if strange _joorre_ came out of the woods and began to attack you?"

The twins grumbled simultaneously, but the woman looked like she was returning to reason, at least slightly.

"Were you the dragon that sacked Whiterun?" she asked, sheathing her bow but keeping a hand on a dagger protruding out of her belt.

"I was not. That dragon has been slain already, at _Golzewer_ - pardon me, at Markarth."

The woman's eyes brightened, and she took on a slightly childish cast.

"Truly? This is a great day for Whiterun, and the Companions. Tell me, who has slain this dragon?"

Fahulkaal balked, but I stepped forward, determined to weather whatever ridicule would be thrown my way. I was the Dragonborn; time to start acting like it.

"I slew the dragon Luvaasunil and devoured his soul. He is within me even now, and he will testify that I speak the truth. I am Dragonborn," I stated, squaring my shoulders.

The woman was slackjawed.

"You cannot be," she whispered.

"I am."

"Prove your blood, if you are truly what you say you are."

The short-haired twin guffawed.

"Surely you aren't believing this whelp? His story is more fantastical than what broken piles of dung Torvar puts together! Aela, this is a child, claiming to be travelling with not one, but _two_ dragons. Come to your senses."

'Aela' turned to face the twin with fire in her expression, and he quailed.

"If he can prove that he is what he has claimed to be, then we'll have no choice but to believe him and be on our way. If he cannot, then we'll slay this dragon and _move on_. Are we clear on that?"

The twin nodded, and his brother held him back with a hand on his shoulder. Long-Hair looked at me expectantly.

"Well?" he said gruffly.

I inhaled, and exhaled. I inhaled, and Shouted.

"_Yol... Toor!_" I cried out, arching my back and tilting my head upwards, letting the impressive flame belt out of my mouth and heat the chilly air. The Companions exclaimed and jumped backwards, eyes wide.

I was glad that Fahulkaal and Luvaasunil had taken the time to teach me _toor_; I barely knew _yol_ when I left High Hrothgar. The resulting flames were indeed impressi-

A knot of pure agony dropped down my throat like a hot coal, and I doubled over, head feeling like it was about to burst. Blood dripped out of my nose, and I spit crimson life all over the cobbled road.

_Too much, too fast_, I groaned. Both my companions rushed to my side, with the corporeal one warding me from the Companions and the incorporeal one trying to help me fix whatever was wrong.

_Your Voice is still too weak, Sivaas,_ Luvaasunil fretted, flitting around my mind like a worried honeybee.

_I'll be fine..._ I volunteered, but Luvaasunil cut me off.

_I'm sure you _will_ be, but you aren't right now. We need to go. Fahulkaal!_

"What?" he rumbled, shooing the Companions away once more.

_Grab Sivaas and fly until those warriors can't see us anymore._

"What? No, I can- _ughlf_!"

Fahulkaal gently sank his teeth into the most layered part of my armour and began to take off. The Companions were startled and surprised, and suspicion began to etch itself across their faces.

Then my friend banked, and we sped east, away from the warriors of Jorrvaskr.

I was entrenched in a snow bed, next to a fire, and I had more deer meat and mountain goat sitting near me than I could eat in a month. I was within arm's reach of a small, clean stream of water, and Fahulkaal constantly heated it with a little bit of fire.

It was disturbing.

"That's it," I growled, starting to rise, but Luvaasunil grabbed control of my arms and dug me in farther.

_You need to rest. Overextending your Voice is not something you can just walk away from. I've even had to take breaks because I Shouted more words than I could handle._

"That being the case, we're more than double our original distance from Morthal! We could get to Eastmarch pretty easily, now! And do you think the most Nordic city in Skyrim will take kindly to a dragon? They'd kill Fahulkaal regardless of what I said."

_Then we won't go to Eastmarch._

"Gah! I don't like being cooped up like this!"

"No, you don't," Fahulkaal chuckled, warming the water a little.

I settled and gave the big dragon my best, watery doe eyes.

"Please," I sniffled. "I can't stand this."

_Hah! I could do better than that!_

I instantly snapped back to my usual demeanour.

_Shut it, you._

_ Or what?_

_ Or I'll... think about really disgusting things and make you watch._

_ Whatever. Please do. What you might consider disgusting, I might consider delicious._

I shot him a short image that made my skin crawl.

_...Blech. I surrender, if giving up means I don't have to look at _that _again._

Fahulkaal peered at me curiously.

"What did you show him?" he asked, grinning slightly.

Luvaasunil 'forwarded' my image.

The big dragon was silent for a few seconds, then snorted loudly and retched, going back to his stream.

"Sivaas..." he groaned exasperatedly, but I just grinned. Score one for the Dovahkiin.

We were quiet for a while, each ruminating on their own subjects. Fahulkaal was thinking about how interesting the patterns of water running over stones was; Luvaasunil was thinking about what I'd shown him and shuddering; and I was thinking about that song.

_It must be a great shame to be exiled for who you are,_ I sighed. _If I was like that... I am like that. I will be exiled after a time, because the people will have no use for me after that. If I fulfill whatever my purpose is, then that's it. My life is more or less over after that point._

_ Is that what happens to all heroes? Do they complete their quests and fade into obscurity for the rest of time, until they're immortalised in legend? Then is it better to die in pursuit of your quest, or better to complete it and then fade? And what about the truly immortal heroes? What happens to them? Do they just... endure? Where do they go? Who do they become?_

Then, a truly horrifying thought struck me.

_Luvaasunil._

_ Uurgh... hm? Yes?_

_ Let's talk privately for a moment._

_ Absolutely._

He quietly withdrew from Fahulkaal, a discrepancy that the bronze-red dragon barely noticed.

_What is it?_

_ Dragons are immortal, correct?_

_ Yes and no. Their souls are, like any mortal's, except that they may remain in whatever afterlife of their choosing for however long they wish, within limits._

_ What are those limits?_

_ Well, I've died and returned three times. I spent three hundred years in Aetherius the first time, and then returned of my own free will. The second time, I spent two years in a small plane of Oblivion. Not a very hospitable place. The third time, I attempted to enter Sovngarde, and Shor cast me into the aether for five hundred years. Then, I couldn't return because I lacked a source of energy and something was happening in Aetherius that prevented me from doing anything, like all of my kin. Now I've died a fourth time, and you caught my soul before I could go anywhere._

_ ...Limits?_

_ Oh, sorry I bored you with my multiple deaths. Anyways, a dragon cannot return to life if his body is scattered across multiple planes of existence; takes too much energy to reconstitute. But if it's just a foot that happened to land in Moonshadow or something, then we can regrow that. A dragon has to regain whatever energy it lost from death before it can return, and based on the innate strength of individual dragons, this takes anywhere from a year to a thousand. More powerful dragons are millenials, and the weaker ones come back more frequently._

_ Why haven't you been coming back before now?_

_ One reason, and one reason only; Alduin. The leader of all dragonkind, and the Firstborn of Akatosh. He discovered a way into Sovngarde, the afterlife of Nords who honour the Divines with their prowess. The souls of the Nords there are very powerful indeed, considering they are the toughest and strongest of your race. So Alduin has been locking all other dragons out of Sovngarde and devouring the souls of any who enter. It is a great abomination, and it is why dragons are now returning in force. He is resurrecting us, breaching the decree that the Divines made that forbade our return._

_ Alduin...? The World-Eater? He's just a legend, right?_

_ No. I tell you the unadulterated truth. Alduin is as real as you or I, and he's usurped Akatosh's position as the Father of Dragons. And the point of the matter is that he's stolen enough power from Shor's Hall to become deific. He's essentially a god without the title or staying power. He has to return to Sovngarde each time he expends his energies, since the Divines cursed him for taking his father's throne. He cannot regenerate anything on his own. _

_ Then... is that...?_

_ Yes, that is why the Nords believe you are here. To defeat Alduin._

My breath came in quick gasps. What in Oblivion were the Nords thinking? I couldn't do that!

_Peace, Sivaas. It won't happen for a very, very long time. Decades at the shortest._

That was a bit insulting, but I could handle it.

_Back to my original question._

_ As you wish._

_ Am I immortal in the draconic sense?_

Luvaasunil hesitated, and a quick communication passed between him and Fahulkaal.

_Yes... and no. Like the dragons, you will have a choice as to whether or not you want to resurrect yourself. However..._

_ What? What is it?_

_ You will not retain your memories. You essentially restart your entire life. You lose yourself._

I absorbed the information, terrified at what he was implying.

_Then... how do I know that I am actually Sivaas Ah? I could be Tiber Septim, for all I know._

"You know that you are yourself by how you perceive yourself," Fahulkaal asserted. "You and only you can define who 'Sivaas Ah' really is. If you are really Tiber Septim reincarnated, then he is gone and Sivaas Ah is here. There is no other."

Tears welled in my eyes.

"Nox, dii fahdon." _Thank you, my friends._

"You are most welcome."

_Likewise._

* * *

**A/N:** What good is a Skyrim fanfic without the Companions? None!

As you can probably tell, I'm taking massive creative licence with the whole resurrection thing. If I've somehow violated the lore, please tell me and I'll fix it. Also tell me about grammar and spelling and all of those other things.

A big _Thank You_ to for helping me get all of this dragontongue down! I encourage you to check out their site; it's a very comprehensive compendium of Dovahzul and I am now partially fluent in the language because of them. They're the best, although the translator is a bit buggy.

Read, rate, and review, though not in that order if you think some other combination is better.

(P.S. I'm rolling in money because of this. Thank you, gracious donators! HOLLA HOLLA GET DOLLA)


	9. 9: Hot Springs, With A Side of Distemper

Morthal was a small town on the edge of the marshes, and its only use was as a wayrest going to or from Solitude or Windhelm. It served as a nice little dividing mark along with Whiterun, even though its Jarl was loyal to the Imperials. The fens were dark, treacherous, and practically overflowing with people that didn't want to be found, so naturally the people of Morthal gave it magical properties. They were illiterate, superstitious Nords. Seemed to fit nicely.

Fahulkaal wasn't going to dare getting near the town and having the Legion brought down on our heads, so Luvaasunil and I went alone. When we came down the short incline into the dank-smelling village that had somehow managed to become a Hold capital, we were greeted by a crowd of townspeople, faces twisted into masks of fear. They held pitchforks and torches to illuminate the evening, and one man stepped forward, carrying a dented, dusty sword.

"Who are you and what business do you have in Morthal?" the man grunted, shifting his grip on the hilt. I raised my hands in a peaceful gesture.

"I am simply a traveller, going from Markarth to Windhelm to visit my family," I replied smoothly, gauging the reactions of the townsfolk. All of them believed me but this one obstinate man.

"What is your name, and how long do you expect to be staying?"

_Luvaasunil, what in Oblivion is going on here?_

_ They're Nords, living isolated from everybody else, in a hostile climate. In short, they're more skittish than a tortured horse and more stupid than your average chicken. Answer them quickly and surely, and they'll leave you be._

"My name is Grelund One-Eye, and I will be staying for... three days."

The man snorted. "I see two eyes, not one."

"My father was Wulfgar One-Eye," I returned cautiously, unsure if this would pass. My uncertainty about Nordic surnames and the widespreadness of the Greybeards' names made me uneasy. This was a farce that might soon collapse under the weight of this one man's scrutiny if I didn't watch my tongue.

The Nord nodded, a thoughtful look on his face.

"I think I've heard that name before. Stay at the inn, the Moorside. Don't go wandering around town unless you have business. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Good. Be on your way."

The crowd of people dispersed, and I made my way to the inn by the sparse lanternlight. When I opened the door, the odour coming from inside made me cough a few times; it reeked of some acrid smell, unwashed drunks, marsh, and cheap mead.

_Guh. That smells horrible._

_ Tell me about it; I'm the one with the nose here._

I dodged a few villagers and a hunter to get to the innkeep, a Redguard woman who identified herself as Jonna.

"Finally, somebody comes in. Kick off your boots, and stay awhile. Tell me if you need anything; I've got nothing but time these days," she said wryly, smiling.

I returned her smile, and asked for a room.

"Sure, it's yours for a day if you've got thirty septims."

I counted out twenty-five septims, all I had. I grimaced and looked at her pleadingky. She sighed and collected the coins.

"It's fine, you can stay. Just chop a few pieces of wood out back for the fire, and we're even."

I agreed gratefully, and she led me back to my room.

"Call if you need anything else," she quipped, moving back to the counter and pouring herself a cup of water. I got out of my armour and retrieved my clothes from my bag, rolling down the wool sleeves. It was a little chilly here.

_Should I go repay her now, or later?_

_ Rest a little, Sivaas. I'll wake you in the morning._

_ Thanks._

I fell onto the creaky wooden bed, glad that it wasn't one of those heinous stone slabs in Markarth. The pillow was stuffed with goose down, a rarity in Skyrim, and the furs were soft. I smiled sleepily into the warm bed, and I was asleep within a few minutes.

_Hey, Sivaas. Get up, it's almost noon._

"Grrhm," I grunted, rolling over groggily. Sunlight streamed through the slightly grimy windows, and I shielded my face as I rose.

_Thanks, Luvaasunil._

_ It was no trouble. But by the Eight, wash yourself. You smell like venison left out in the sun for weeks._

_ Do I? I don't smell anything._

_ You can't smell yourself, _laagus-sen_. Go wash._

_ Thanks again for your kind words._

_ Anytime._

I cracked a smile and went outside, glad to be out of the hot interior of the Moorside. The air was crisp and cool, and I spied a small pool of water that ran around the back of the inn. I disrobed and put a toe in the water, warily eyeing the small frost that had accumulated on its surface.

_Shor's bones, this is cold!_

_ We're in the north of Skyrim, genius. The water'll be a little cold even in the Rift. Deal with it so I don't have to keep smelling you._

_ How are you smelling me if I can't smell myself?_

_ Because I can interpret signals from your sensory organs that you can't because you're accustomed to them._

_ ...What?_

_ Just get in the water and I'll explain._

I painstakingly lowered myself into the water, sucking air through my teeth. When I was fully in, I plunged my head under and immediately came back up, gasping.

_This... is... really cold!_

_ Really? What tipped you off?_

_ Shut it, you._

I grabbed a reed that was growing on the side of the tiny pond and scrubbed myself with it, washing off the grime of the past few months. A lot had happened, and I hadn't had time to bathe.

_You could've warmed it yourself, you know._

_ ...Er. I didn't think of that._

_ Here. Do you know the word 'warm?' ...No, you don't. It's _faadus_._

_ Thanks._

A few seconds passed, both of us waiting expectantly.

_Well?_

_ Are you going to teach me the meaning or what?_

Faadus _means warm. There._

_ You know what I mean._

_ No, I'm not. Teach yourself, _juuboh_._

_ Calling me lazy, eh? When you've been freeloading all this time?_

_ I taught you _Iiz_, and that's all we agreed to._

_ Whatever._

I thought about _faadus_, trying to divine the very essence of the concept of warmth. Luvaasunil interrupted me mid-thought, evidently unable to contain himself.

Faadus _means warm as in 'object A is warming object B,' not as in 'a state of being warm.'_

_ Oh. Thank you._

_ Just hurry up. Your fingers are getting numb, as are... other bits._

I flushed slightly, and continued my meditation on the action of warming, and not on the concept of being warm. It was a tricky business, this Shouting; if you perceived a word's tense or syntax incorrectly, either nothing would happen or something horrible would. For example, if I had attached _a state of being warm_ to _faadus_ and then used it, I might have boiled myself alive. That's why the Greybeards required so much meditation and thought on my part before they would allow me to speak a word. The Greybeards...

_Focus. If you freeze to death, I'm going down with you._

_ Shut it so I can finish!_

I quickly finished my thought process, and murmured gently to the water,

"_Faadus_."

Steam hissed away as the pool became warmer, and the ice vanished. I slid up to my chin in the pleasantly heated water, closing my eyes and grinning with satisfaction.

_Aah. Tol los pruz,_ Luvaasunil sighed. _That's better._

We both relaxed in the welcome heat until a gentle tap on my shoulder got my attention. My eyes flew open and I kicked away from the side of the pool, coming to rest against the foundation of the inn. A square-jawed Nord, dressed in iron armour, stood at the edge of the pool. He seemed torn between wanting to get in and ask me what in Oblivion was going on.

"It's alright," I grinned, beckoning. "Get in if you want, I'm not some necromancer."

"What...?" he started, gesturing vaguely at the steam that was still flying into the air.

"I heated the water. Not with magic; it's fine, it's fine. The water is warm; just get in if you want."

He politely declined, going back around to the front of the inn. Pretty soon more people were coming, and I extended to them the same invitation, assuring them that no witchcraft was involved. After only a few minutes, most of the town of Morthal was enjoying itself in the small hot spring, chatting with friends and laughing.

_You're quite popular_, Luvaasunil said languidly, basking in the warmth of good company and the pool.

_All thanks to you, _fahdon_._

_ Aah, you are quite welcome. But I must say..._

_ What?_

_ That Nord who so rudely interrogated you last night looks pretty pissed off._

_ What?!_

I bolted up, looking around for - and finding - the Nord. He stood on the wooden walkway between the inn and some burned-down house I didn't really notice before, arms crossed and brows beetled.

"What is the meaning of this?" he spluttered, and the entire pool went silent. Several people started to speak up, but he stared them down until they were silent. He pointed a gnarled finger at me.

"You, Grelund. Get out," he snarled, turning on one heel and stalking back to a longhouse next to the inn. I got out, and grabbing my tunic, I hurried over to follow him. Several people reassured me that everything would be fine, but I wasn't so sure.

When I finally got in the warm longhouse, a weathered old Jarl sat on her throne, and the man spoke animatedly to her, yelling out accusations.

"...and when he heated the pool with his _sorcery_, everyone just jumped right in!" he shouted, gesticulating wildly. I stepped forward, and the Jarl smiled at me. I returned it, albeit with a bit of trepidation.

The Jarl introduced herself as Idgrod Ravencrone, and she leaned forward onto her knees, eyes sparkling with silent mirth.

"So, Grelund One-Eye. I heard that you were giving my people a place to bathe, and hospitable water to do so in," she said, silencing the man with a glare.

"Y-yes, Jarl Idgrod. Is there a problem?"

"What did you use to heat the water?"

"Er..."

The man indignantly stepped forward again.

"Do you see? Lies and deceit! He is a wizard, the same as the Redguard! We need to cast him out!"

The words struck a nerve, and lines of Luvaasunil's tale sprung to the front of my mind. My rage bubbled, and I crossed the space between us with two steps.

_Sivaas_, my companion warned, but it was too late. I seized the collar of the man's tunic and shoved my face into his.

"What right do you have to accuse me of anything?" I spat, spittle flecking the pale man's face. "I have done nothing to make you think that I would be a threat to you or your town! If anything, I've been hospitable! I tried to do something nice for your people, and this is how you repay me? I tried to be _civil_! _Nice_! _Polite_! And _this _is how I'm repaid? _Get out of my sight, you worthless sack of dirt!_"

I released the man, and with a fluid motion, shoved him backwards onto his ass. He stared up at me with the fear of the Divines, and he scrambled away, climbing stairs in an instant to flee to his room. That was what made me realise he was the Jarl's steward, and a chilling fright played across my skin. I turned slowly back to the Jarl, who was barely holding back gales of laughter.

_Now you've done it_, Luvaasunil cackled. _Swell, top job. Couldn't have done better myself._

_ Shut it, or you're next._

_ Oho! He has a sharp tongue._

_ Shut up!_

The Jarl finally burst into great whoops of laughter, tears of mirth dripping from her wrinkled eyes onto the stone floor. She laughed and laughed, and when she was finally done, she laid back onto her throne, gasping for breath.

"That... was the funniest thing I have seen in all my years," she giggled, wiping her eyes.

"M-my Jarl, I apologise-"

"Don't. Aslfur is impetuous, and needs to be shown that he is not always the final authority on everything once in a while. What you did was good, and you have indeed done nothing wrong. Go, enjoy yourself, and I promise that he will not bother you again. But," she said with a stern note, holding up a finger as I turned to leave, "Do not think that because of your status, you may impugn a steward's honour with impunity. You are safe in Morthal because I like you, Dragonborn, but you will not escape unscathed from such a conflict in other holds, with other Jarls. Do you understand?"

I nodded yes, but looked at her with confusion.

"You know?"

"I do, but not because anybody told me. I saw your arrival in a vision, Dragonborn, and yours as well, dragon. I will keep your identity a secret as long as you wish."

"Thank you, Jarl Idgrod," I said gracefully, bowing low. Luvaasunil extended his consciousness towards the Jarl and spoke as well.

_Thank you, Jarl. May the blessing of Akatosh be on your house for now and ever._

Her eyes brightened, and she sat forward, face filled with wonder.

"He speaks!" she cried, laughing again.

_Indeed I do, _Luvaasunil chuckled. _Thank you for your kindness, and I - we - apologise in advance for any trouble we may have caused by our actions._

She waved him off.

"As I said before, you have done no wrong. Enjoy your stay in Morthal, and do not let Aslfur's transgressions affect your opinion of us. We are not all so close-minded," she grinned with a twinkle in her green eyes. Luvaasunil and I left, returning to the pool. When we turned the corner, everybody was still waiting, despite the fact that the water was cooling rapidly. They looked at me expectantly, and I grinned widely.

"Drinks for everybody!" I shouted, lifting my arms up and eliciting raucous cheers from all. I lowered myself back into the water as Jonna came out with drinks, and I shivered. The water was getting cold. I self-consciously brought the word to mind, but hesitated.

_Do you think they'll care? _I asked, looking at the faces of the townspeople.

_I... do not know. It depends on whether or not they trust you now._

_ Let's give it a try, then._

"_Faadus,_" I whispered, and the water sizzled as it warmed once more. Everybody in the pool jumped at the sudden heat and turned to me. I shrugged and grinned, and cheers went up all around again. As the chatter and laughter settled back in, I slid up to my chin in the hot water and closed my eyes, smiling widely.

_That went much better than expected._

_ Indeed. I didn't expect the Jarl to know who you were_, Luvaasunil commented.

_Neither did I._

_ Uhm... Sivaas?_

_ Hm?_

_ How are you going to pay for those drinks?_

_ Ulp._

* * *

**A/N:** Sivaas is a compulsive liar. That's what it says on his psych record. Also, he's a compulsive party-starter, and also a compulsive spender. He's also a compulsive Dragonborn. But that's besides the point!

Now, class, what did we learn from this chapter?

Angry steward + spectral dragon companion + fake names + the Voice + clairvoyant Jarl = party with all the townspeople. Perfect maths. Yes.

Read, review... oh, that's getting old. You know what to do.


	10. 10: Mind the Dead, Early-Riser

I spent the next day chopping wood and running errands for Jonna, paying back the debt of five hundred septims I had managed to rack up. I ran messages to the alchemist, gave letters to the courier, chopped a seemingly endless line of logs, swept out the tavern, and even managed to get a broke drunk to agree to pay his debts. By the end of the day, I had established a friendly rapport with everybody in the town, with the exception of Aslfur.

I collapsed into a creaky wooden chair in the Moorside, exhausted. The sun was setting, and I had just helped the herbalist in town transport thirty pounds of frost salts to the town's winter food storage. Not only were the crates massively heavy, they were also chillier than the most biting winds from the Pale, and by the time I was done, I was shivering, and I could swear a film of ice had developed on my clothes. Jonna wandered over and handed me a drink, which she said was on the house.

"Only staying for one more night?" she chuckled, sitting down briefly. I nodded between gulps of tea, wishing that she'd serve me ale, considering I had just paid for everybody's tab.

"A shame. People have been talking about you, and I'd say that you wouldn't be out of your mind to ask permission to buy land here," she said thoughtfully, getting back up to go to the counter. I laughed and shook my head.

"No, I've got to be going. But if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to send me a letter," I called, rising to retire to my room and regretting that I hadn't told her my true name. Luvaasunil had been unusually quiet all day, and now I poked at him.

_Cat got your tongue?_

_ No._

_ Then what's with the silence?_

_ I was trying to figure out what your plans were from here._

_ And what did you come up with?_

_ You have no plans. You're just blindly _going_ places without even knowing why._

I thought about that for a minute as I prepared for bed.

_You have no idea where you're going, or what you should do. The only reason you're even here right now was because you somehow got it into your head that you could slay me._

_ I did, didn't I?_

_ Only because Fahulkaal assisted you, and because I got cocky. If it had been just you, I would have roasted you alive and that would have been that._

_ Don't be so sure. I might've done some damage_, I asserted.

_Don't make me laugh, Sivaas. Thanks to continued proximity with this pebble you call a mind, I know how you think, and how you were planning to try to take me down. Jumping on my back would have been a one-in-a-million shot, and even then, you wouldn't have been able to cling to me for more than a few seconds. I would have killed you without ever knowing who you were._

_ Then aren't you glad I didn't take that course of action?_

_ Yes, I'm absolutely ecstatic that you cracked my ribs, broke my wings, and stabbed me in the eye_, he belted back, voice dripping with sarcasm like a snake's fangs.

_But my point remains. You have no plans. Your sole purpose for leaving your _raald_ was to slay me, and now you have done so. So where do you go from here? Do you travel northeast to Winterhold to join the College? Do you travel southeast to Riften and the Thieves' Guild? Do you travel east to Windhelm to aid in the Stormcloak rebellion? Do you travel northwest to Solitude, to reestablish the Empire's hold? Do you travel south to Whiterun, to join forces with the mighty Companions? Do you seek out the Dark Brotherhood, or do you seek to eradicate them? Or do you pursue loftier goals? Where are you going, Sivaas? _Kolos los hi shurtaas_?_

I hesitated. This was a huge question. Where _was _I going to go? The only things that really made sense were to either join the College or to head back to the Monastery with two dragons and a long tale in tow. The Greybeards would likely punish me with months of silence and frosty glares, with the exception of Arngeir, who would rattle on until he was bluer than a Stormcloak's armour. Paarthurnax would simply be quietly disappointed, and refuse to teach me until I had proven that I was responsible enough to bear the burden of _Dovahkiin_.

Then, something occurred to me.

_Luvaasunil?_

_ Yes?_

_ Those walls, with the Dovahzul etched on them; are there more?_

_ Yes, if memory serves me a bottle of mead and some soup._

_ ...What?_

_ Bad joke. Sorry. Yes, there are, but they'll be hidden in ancient Nordic crypts, tombs, cairns, fanes, and pretty much anywhere that the Nords had places dedicated to the dead._

_ That's... morbid._

_ So were the ancient Nords. So are the current Nords._

_ True, and true again._

_ But surely you're not thinking of seeking out these walls? They'll be defended by dragons, or worse. Have you ever heard of the draugr?_

I shuddered, remembering the horror stories I'd heard. The twisted bodies of the ancient Nords entombed in their dusty cairns; corpses that still walked and butchered anybody foolish enough to set foot in their halls.

_I take it you have. They will defend these wordwalls with what little scraps are left of their lives. Remnants of the Dragon Cult will be prevalent in the ruins, and you may encounter creatures much more powerful than you can handle. The reward is great, but the risk is equally high._

_ I think it'll be worth it. With each ruin that I get a word from, I'll become stronger._

_ But what if you already have learned and used a word of power, and then you discover it in a ruin? What then?_

_ I'm... not sure. But whatever happens, it's the only real method to learning what I need to overcome more challenges. Without Fahulkaal, I'd already be dead._

_ True, and true again._

_ Very well, then. It is decided. We need to start researching the ancient ruins and figuring out which have walls._

_ How do you know that some do and some don't? All of them could have walls, or only one could have a wall. We do not know._

_ Precisely why we're going to find out._

The next day, I rose early and left without saying a word to anyone. It was better this way; I didn't want a bunch of fanfare announcing my departure. Luvaasunil approved, and he directed me to where Fahulkaal was staying.

_Did he really have to choose the marsh? _I groaned, slogging through a patch of muck and avoiding a deer skull.

_Where else was he going to go? The mountains south of the road are too visible to stay for more than a few hours._

_ I don't know. Anywhere but here might've been nice._

_ Then you pick where he'll be staying the next time you ditch him to go partying in a town._

_ I didn't go partying! I-_

_ Watch yourself-!_

Thanks to Luvaasunil's warning, I narrowly missed colliding head-on with a grey, gnarled old tree that had partially sunken into the ground, if this half-solid sludge could be called that. I stopped to breathe for a second, then sardonically patted the trunk with mock affection and moved on.

_This place is foul, and unsuited for living for any period of time_, I declared.

_Tell that to your friends down south._

_ At least they aren't living in this godsforsaken swamp! They're right on the edge of it._

_ I'm still failing to see where you have a valid point. It's dirty, odourous, and nasty. I get it. Keep moving._

_ Shut it._

Soon enough, a stone hill rose out of the banks of the marsh, and a huge, sleeping bulk was curled next to it. I plodded irritably into Fahulkaal's small camp, sitting down at the remains of a bonfire and holding my hands up to it. The chill fog had rolled in from the Sea of Ghosts, dropping the temperature to freezing. I shuddered and cast a wary eye over the featureless mists. My friend roused himself quickly, hearing my arrival, and rose his big head up, claws put nicely one over the other. His mouth stretched wide in a yawn, flashing dozens of sharp teeth, and I grinned.

"Pruzah feyl, dii fahdon," I chuckled, wiping a bit of mud off of my sword.

"Pruzah feyl, vath-aloktaas," he replied, voice somewhat warped by his yawn.

_'Early-Riser?' _Luvaasunil snickered. _It's only three o' clock. It's not _that _early._

Fahulkaal rumbled, laughing, then set about cleaning the dirt and caked blood from his claws.

"Zu'u mindoraan tol mu los liftaas?" he said in between licks. _I understand that we're leaving?_

"Vrah." _Indeed._

"Kolos fent mu bo nol het?" _Where will we go from here?_

The partner of my mind cackled gleefully.

_Isn't that a bitch? He doesn't know!_

Fahulkaal stopped cleaning himself and looked at me squarely.

"Zu'u faas daar fund koros," he muttered. _I feared this would happen._

I looked down at the earth, somewhat ashamed. I knew what I wanted, but not how to get it. I switched back to the common tongue briefly, describing the situation.

"I want to find more walls like the one that had _Iiz _inscribed on it at Eldersblood Peak. But I have no idea where they are, or how to find them," I groaned.

_Well, we have a general idea of where they _might_ be_, Luvaasunil clarified. _They, as you know, were built by the ancient Nords, and the only remaining structures that have ancient Nordic roots are their burial cairns. So we think that they might be there._

The dragon nodded, laying his head back down. He was quiet for a few minutes, and it wasn't until a little time had passed that I realised that the two _dovah_ were speaking covertly, where I couldn't listen in. Luvaasunil wasn't focused on me, so he wasn't aware of my intentions until I burst into the shared mind-space.

_...finds his own tomb, and the memories come back, that's it, _Luvaasunil was whispering, and agreement briefly emanated from Fahulkaal before they both jumped and snarled at my intrusion. The incorporeal dragon shoved me roughly out, and in my shock, I let him.

'_Find my own tomb...?'_

"What in Oblivion are you talking about, 'finding my own tomb?!'" I shouted, leaping to my feet indignantly. Luvaasunil was still seething, but the great copper dragon attempted to calm me down.

"Sivaas, _drem_. This is not as it seems-"

"Really? Because I could've sworn that you were talking about me finding my own grave! And what memories, memories of a past life? Who was I? Why will that knowledge unravel me? How do you even know what I'm capable of withstanding? Just bec-"

_Silence, whelp, and we will explain! _Luvaasunil roared, dangerously close to his breaking point. He was still angry about several issues, and if I gave him gip about this, he'd probably attack me. I fell quiet, glaring at Fahulkaal. My rage hurt him, I could see it in his eyes; but I needed answers about this.

"The draugr, the ancient Nords that walk the halls of their crypts. You know of them?"

I nodded.

"They are corpses, without much intelligence. But slaying one will release the soul that was bound to it, and its memories are available to their original owners once more."

I began to see where this was going.

"So you're telling me that one of my past reincarnations was part of the Dragon Cult, and is now resurrected as a result?" I breathed, shoulders hunched.

_No, Sivaas, gods no. The foul powers of the priests of the Dragon Cult were - are - what animate the draugr. Not only Cult members were interred in the Nords' burial chambers; great heroes, priests, scholars, and kings were also laid to rest there as well. When the Dragon Priests began to awaken their followers, they didn't retain enough of their minds to make the distinction between those who were of the Cult and those who were not. Every human corpse - or mer corpse, for that matter - was resurrected into the draugr._

"So?" I huffed. "Which was I? Hero, priest, scholar, king... what? What was I?"

Both hesitated, stoking the flames of my fury. Before I could say anything, Fahulkaal responded.

"The truth is that we do not know. You may be a combonation of several, or all. We have no way of telling, except that when you slay the body of your past self, you will regain your memories from that time."

"Then how do you even know that I was buried in one of those crypts? I might've been cremated or buried at sea or something," I retorted.

_All of the early Dragonborn were buried in these crypts, and it is very likely that you will encounter one of your past selves in the ruins. For all we know, the title of Dragonborn is simply one soul, passing from body to body. Each cairn you enter may spell death for you, and if it does not, you may have your former selves forced upon you. In your current state, it would be too much to bear and your mind would burn up, even with just one other set of memories._

"My 'current state?'"

_...You're a boy of fifteen. Do you really expect to be able to handle things a fully-grown _Dovahkiin _would barely be able to cope with?_

"I have to! I have to be able to withstand any challenge! That's who I'm supposed to be!"

"No great hero of legend was _born _a great hero of legend, Sivaas. It takes years and years of training, and you must be honed like a fine blade before a battle, else you will shatter and snap like hot glass dropped in the snow. This is not a process that was meant to be a short road; it will take you many years to become ready to face Alduin, if indeed you choose to, and even then, you will be hard-pressed to survive. It will require the full power of the Dragonborn to right the balance in the heavens, and you do not even possess a fraction of that power."

I growled. I wanted to be angry with them. I wanted to rage and scream and prove my worth to them, so they - so everybody - would stop calling me a _child_. But in the deepest recess of my consciousness, I knew they were right, and it irritated me beyond measure. I was weak, just as weak as I had been when I had snuck out of High Hrothgar to take on an unknown threat in a distant place. Just as weak as I had been when I tried to take down a dragon in Markarth. Just as weak as I had been in Hjaalmarch, when I couldn't even manage to Shout two simple words. Just as weak as I was now. I could barely take on a man in single combat. Luvaasunil was right; I would have died instantly at his hand.

_Now you see why I wanted to travel with you._

_ What?_

_ I don't like you very much, and I still think you're a cocksure, arrogant brat who's going to end up facedown in the White River with a few dozen arrows sticking out of your back, but even I can realise Alduin's actions are crimes that he must pay for. If he doesn't, the Divines will be forced to wipe every last living thing out of existence and start anew, and I for one don't really like the idea of being forcibly thrust into the Void and then being roasted alive with everything else. That is why I decided to stay with you, Sivaas Ah. It wasn't because of your sparkling personality; it was because there is something greater at risk than a petty feud over a sword through my grey matter. Either you stop Alduin, or we're all going up in flames, your foe of legend included. Now, it is entirely your choice whether or not to let the world end, but should you decide to save it, I would recommend getting started right about now._


	11. 11: Smoke, Clones, Bandits, and Akaviri

Humbling. That was the only word for it. I was meant to be the saviour of Tamriel - no, Mundus in its entirety - and I was not ready, not by a long shot. There was studying to be done, training to be had, and so much Shouting it made my head spin just to contemplate it. And there were many, many ways to go about this.

I could return to the Greybeards and resume my formal training, weathering their distemper and learning all they had to teach. I could move north to the College of Winterhold, delving deep into magical secrets that might unlock the chink in whatever armour protected my foes. I could try my luck with the Companions, honing my swordsmanship and becoming a fearsome warrior unlike any other. I could join the army and receive a soldier's mind and arm, fighting for a cause greater than myself. But wasn't I already doing that?

In the end, I decided to go to Solitude. It was only a few days' journey from Hjaalmarch, and it was the current capital of Skyrim. Civil war or not, there was an abundant well of all types of knowledge there, and I intended to tap it.

During the flight, not much happened except for a brief run-in with a dirty brown dragon that glared at us from a small mount northwest of Eldersblood Peak, too afraid to rise to the strange mortal's challenge atop a senior _dovah_ and too fiery to let us go without some kind of attack. In the end, it simply spat a single insult at us, and received a nice charring courtesy of Fahulkaal for its trouble.

When the great stone arch that was home to Solitude came into view, Fahulkaal veered west and landed in a small valley between the upper lip of Skyrim's coast and a mountain that overlooked the crossroads between Hjaalmarch, the Reach, and Haafingar. It was almost nightfall, so I decided to make camp here and set out for Dragon Bridge in the morning.

We were sitting across a small campfire from each other, and I gazed, eyes heavy-lidded, into the flames. I wasn't angry, or content, or depressed. I was... empty. That was the best word I had to describe my vista of grey. Luvaasunil piped up late into the night, wondering at my emotions.

_What are you feeling, Sivaas? What is in your heart? I understand that our little speech may have put you on edge, but what is this emotion that pervades you so completely? You're perceiving yourself as... _zegran_. Hollow._

I spoke aloud for Fahulkaal's benefit, and for the peace it would bring me to voice it.

"I feel acceptance, purely and finally. I am ready for the tasks ahead of me, which are to prepare me for the tasks ahead of those tasks. _Zu'u los nuk_. I am ready."

Amazement filtered through our connection, and Fahulkaal simply grinned.

"That is the first step in achieving your goal," he said, giving me a satisfied look. "You begin to think like a _dovah_. You realise that there is much ahead of you, and you also realise that what is before you is to prepare you for something greater. _Pruzah drehlaan, sen-meyztaas-jul_.

_Well done, boy-becoming-man_.

In the morning, I rose before anybody else. Luvaasunil was in a brief period of stasis, a state that he entered every few days to get some energy back. Fahulkaal was still sleeping, tired from the long flight. I decided to go for a jog.

The small valley was large enough that I could see for miles, down south into parts of the Reach and north into parts of Haafingar. It was isolated, perfect for a dragon to rest unnoticed. Sound would definitely carry, though. As I went, I broke into a light sweat, and the cool air chilled my skin. I loped through clusters of trees and over hills, making a wide circle around back to the camp. When I was two-thirds of the way back, Luvaasunil rolled over in my mind and yawned, smacking his illusory lips.

_That was a fine rest_, he purred, stretching. I snorted, laughing, and resumed my monotonous pattern of breathing. It was nice, not to have that to worry about. Breathing, I mean.

_Out for a run? _he queried, looking at my senses. _Where are we? Same area, I presume?_

_ Yes, and yes. We're still in that valley._

_ Alright. If you were 'going for a run' back into the Reach, I might have taken offence._

_ Offence? Why?_

He huffed.

_It's only where you killed me in cold blood._

_ Oh, please. So now I can never go back to the Reach because it's where you've been laid to rest?_

_ Absolutely. No goods from Markarth, no bedfellows from Karthwasten, no Forsworn ales. Nothing._

_ Fantastic. I'll just return my armour, then._

_ Your armour is from Markarth? Oh, from that Orsimer smith. Well, then._

_ Hah. What am I going to do without armour, hm? Slay dragons stark naked?_

_ Well, you do have clothes. No need to rise to extremes._

_ Extremes like trying to banish everything from the Reach?_

_ Precisely! You learn faster than I thought._

_ Whatever._

I jogged back into the camp, slightly surprised. I had been concentrating on bantering with Luvaasunil and not on where I was. Fahulkaal was just stirring, and stretched much in the same way that Luvaasunil had. I snickered.

_What is it now? _Luvaasunil sighed dramatically, mock exasperation laced in his tone.

_You all are just like gigantic cats,_ I laughed, making the comparison in my head with images.

_What, those big sabre-toothed things or the domestic ones?_

_ The domestic ones, icebrain._

_ No need to get snarky; I have enough of that for everybody. I suppose the idea is somewhat accurate; dragons are regal and like to be treated as such, much like those little balls of fur. Except we're more intelligent._

_ Could've fooled me._

_ Hey, I'm not the one who tried to cross half of Skyrim for an impossible task._

_ Still managed to succeed._

_ Only because of that big cat over there._

_ I'm failing to see how an ally somehow changes the fact that I won that battle, other than making it more likely that I would._

_ I'm failing to see how you have the right to take credit for a kill that you didn't deserve and didn't make._

_ I was the one that ended up killing you!_

_ But you weren't the one that knocked me down in the first place._

_ I... helped._

_ Hah! With that mewl of a Thu'um? Please._

_ Yours wasn't that spectacular, either._

_ I sure managed to set fire to two holds with it._

_ You know, for a self-righteous, puffed-up loudmouth, you sure are cozy with the concept of death, especially considering you're technically dead right now._

_ I've had a bit of time to get accustomed to it. A few millenia and some vampirism mixed in will do wonders for your conscience, too._

_ So I've heard._

"What are you two arguing about so vehemently?" Fahulkaal chuckled, shuffling himself around to a comfortable position and yawning. Luvaasunil switched his focus to his corporeal counterpart.

_Well, Sivaas here was comparing _dovah_ to _kaaz_ and then it kind of devolved from there._

Fahulkaal raised a brow, working through the comparison in his mind. He threw back his head briefly, laughing, and settled back down, expelling air contentedly through his nostrils.

"I suppose there are similar mannerisms," he murmured, blowing on the lurid, ashy remnants of the fire and causing it to spring up again.

I sat down at the fire once again, not wanting the heat, but wanting the companionship. We were all silent for a while before Fahulkaal heaved a great breath and stood.

"Mu lost delahtaas wah gon!" _We have training to begin!_

I stood as well, pleasantly surprised.

"Zu'u lorot Zu'u lost shurtaas kotin Dovahfost dahsul?" _I thought I was going into Dragon Bridge today?_

"Nid," he rumbled, walking to a clear, flat area. "Dahsul, mu delah!" _No. Today, we train!_

I grinned and took off after him, retrieving my sword and shield. When I came to the clearing, he stood regally and proudly, a fire relit in his magnificent eyes that was absent since Whiterun.

"We must determine what you know if we are to begin," he said, gazing into the distance. I nodded eagerly, drawing my blade and looking around for a target to demonstrate my skills with.

"Luvaasunil?" he called, and the spectre grumbled inside me.

_Yeah, yeah, keep your dress on. I'll teach him the words._

_ Words for what?_

_ For target practice. Now, the words are _Fiik Lo Sah_. Got it?_

_ Yes. What are their meanings?_

_ 'Mirror,' 'Deceive,' and 'Phantom.' You are creating a ghostly copy of yourself, like the Greybeards did for you, once upon a dreary, dreary time. It's a three-worded Shout, but it won't take hardly anything out of you, so go ahead and do it. Got it?_

_ Yes._

I inhaled deeply, concentrating on the triplicate of meanings. I Shouted for the first time in days, and my entire body warmed at the familiar sensation. It was good to be back.

"_Fiik... Lo Sah!_"

A whorling sphere of power blossomed to life between Fahukaal and myself, and when it cleared, a perfect mirror image of myself, but ethereal, stood in its place. I held my blade at the ready and my shield in front of me, but it did nothing. I frowned, sheathing my blade.

"How is it supposed to work?" I inquired, walking up to it.

_Direct it in Dovahzul. Use a command word like 'attack' or 'flee' in front of a target object like 'Sivaas' or 'the rock three paces to the southwest' and it will exert the action on the target. Targetless commands cause it to exert the action on the closest object that appears to be alive; it'll even search out something living._

I stepped back and drew my blade and shield once more, readying myself.

"_Iidah Sivaas!_" I shouted. The copy immediately ripped its blade from its scabbard and retrieved a shield from nowhere and came forward cautiously, shield in front of its torso. I brought my blade down on the rim of its shield and found it to be just as solid as the genuine article, then frantically staggered backwards to avoid its - my - counterstrike. I glared at it, and it did the same to me, which unnerved me.

I advanced, shield raised, and it simply waited for me. Quick as a flash, it tried to jab its sword past my shield and into my armpit, and I shoved the blade away, ripping it out of the fake Sivaas' hand. His expression was one of pure fear before I decapitated him and his entire ghostly composition faded from sight.

I broke out into a cold sweat and my hands became clammy. I felt hunted and strange, and I didn't want to do that again. Ever.

"Those things play for keeps!" I shouted, pointing at the barely-visible pile of ectoplasm. "That one nearly stabbed me through the heart! And it looked like it had _emotions_!"

"How will you fight something if you dither over whether or not it _feels_? If it does, it is a weakness to be exploited upon the battlefield; you saw how _Sivaas-sah_ was frightened at the end, causing him to stop fighting when he could have deflected your attack and retrieved his blade. Emotions are powerful indeed, and necessary for any type of life, but they have absolutely no place in the heart of a warrior on the battlefield."

I groaned inwardly. This was a huge task; learning to slay mercilessly. But was it necessary for me to become Dragonborn in its entirety? Because I sure as hell didn't want this if I didn't need it.

"Again," Fahulkaal rumbled.

"_Fiik... Lo Sah!_"

Another clone appeared, and I directed it to attack me, being cautious. As soon as it swung, I lashed out with my shield, knocking it off balance. With a quick move, I stabbed it through the chest and watched with macabre satisfaction as it faded away.

"Good, you are learning. But there is a danger to these _Sivaas-sah_, and it is a real one. Everything that you display to defeat them, the next one will use against you. They _learn_."

I sucked in air, scared of these fakes. They could kill me or wound me, and then what?

_Calm down, _kaviir-sen_. They are only as strong as the techniques you use against them; they don't harbour some power greater than yours. This Shout was designed this way on purpose; they are always at a slight disadvantage, which makes up for their ability to kill their creator. Besides, once they wound you, they vanish._

I breathed in and out, calming myself. It was a relaxation method that the Greybeards had taught me for preparing for the heat of battle. When I was ready, I stood.

"Again."

"_Fiik... Lo Sah!_"

The conflict began anew. We advanced, and he struck first. I let the blow land on my shield, and then I thrusted forward.

The tip of my blade caught itself in the ethereal shield, and the phantom Sivaas cast it away with a malicious grin.

I backed away, feeling dread pool in my limbs, threatening to stop me entirely. This fake had just disarmed me! That was unfair! Unreasonable!

"How in Oblivion?" I muttered, keeping my eyes on the fake and trying to circle around to where my blade had fallen in the grass. The fake stopped circling with me and cocked its head, listening to what I said.

"Oh, you like hearing me talk? Then have some of _this!_" I shouted, drawing in breath.

"Sivaas, no!"

_Stop, you fool!_

"_Fus... Ro!_"

The Shout knocked the fake flat onto its back just long enough for me to run at full tilt over to my sword and pick it up. As the copy staggered back to its feet, I leapt into the air and buried the sword in its head from above. It vanished with a sound like cracking stone, and I rolled onto the ground.

I turned and met Fahulkaal's blazing eyes.

"What are you thinking? Did you not listen to what we just said? Now the _Sivaas-sen_ can shout with the words _fus_ and _ro_, and they'll likely know the meanings! You have made your task a hundredfold more difficult, and I do not envy you what you have to fight! Again!"

"What?" I queried, looking at him. His visage grew dark and full of rage, so I hurriedly created another copy and readied myself. Its head was cocked for the first few seconds, and then it began to speak.

"How in Oblivion?" it muttered, gleeful face contrasting totally with its frustrated tone. I stopped dead, paler than... well, a ghost.

"Oh, you like hearing me talk? Then have some of _this!_" it cried, standing up tall and squaring its shoulders. I dove out of the way just as the air pressure spiked and the rolling ball of air passed behind me.

Luvaasunil grunted, exasperated.

_You fool_, he groaned. _You bloody, bloody fool. Have fun fighting a fully-functional Dragonborn that learns with each defeat. If you use a Shout against it, it will be free to use that Shout against you indefinitely. So for the love of the Divines, don't give this bastard the first word to Storm Call._

I grimaced. That would be difficult indeed. I rushed it as it recovered from its newfound power and dismembered it in four two-handed slashes. Its body torso and head fell to the ground, and its expression was one of fear and confusion.

"How in Oblivion?" it muttered again, and I sunk my blade into its face.

"That's _better_," I growled, sheathing the iron sword as the apparition faded.

"Good, good," Fahulkaal said. "Again."

"Again? This is getting worse, not better!" I cried, stalking over to where he had lain down.

"Only because you make it so," he snarled, evidently still angry about my using a Shout. He regained control of his temper and repeated the command coolly, and I complied reluctantly. This would be difficult.

"_Fiik... Lo Sah!_"

The clone sprang to life and immediately began to Shout. I dove and tucked and rolled, dodging my own powers. When it couldn't Shout anymore without risking deconstitution, I advanced and began to whale on its shield that it held aloft weakly. I hadn't even drawn my shield; I was using both hands to dent and break the shield. I determinedly slammed it like some crazed miner with a pickaxe who had just found the biggest ebony vein of his life.

Finally, with a sound akin to tearing rope, the spectre's arm snapped, and I gave its prone form a wicked crosscut across the abdomen, slaying it instantly.

"Again."

"_Fiik... Lo Sah!_"

The copy didn't bother Shouting right out of the gate this time, another indication that it was modifying its strategy. We connected in a flurry of steel and leather, each trying to find an opening in the other's defenses. When it became clear that we were just wearing ourselves out in single combat, I retreated behind a tree to the side of the clearing and began to think hard.

"You've just taught it how to take cover, Sivaas!" Fahulkaal shouted from across the clearing, a note of warning in his voice. I looked around the tree, trying to find the apparition.

It was nowhere to be found.

My heart quickened and my breathing shortened. This was bad. I was having to employ somewhat advanced tricks to defeat this opponent, an opponent that learned whatever I did and used it against me the next time we fought. Apparently it could update its strategy in the middle of battle, because it had copied my taking cover behind a tree.

_I knew what it was about to do_.

I dove forward just as it crashed out from bushes next to me, burying its sword in the ground where I had been standing. As I came up, a look of irritation flashed across its face, and I rushed up and slammed it against the tree with my shield. With painstaking care, I guided the blade to its forehead, then jammed it in and drew it satisfactorially out of the tree as the clone died. Returning to Fahulkaal, I bowed deeply.

"I apologise, Master," I intoned humbly, but he stopped me.

"I am not your master, and you should only apologise to yourself. Each conflict with _Sivaas_-_sah_ will make the task of defeating him more difficult. Eventually, you will be forced to Shout to survive, but that day would have been much longer in coming if you had restrained yourself. Now I fear it is only a month or two away, even without training every day. Go into Dragon Bridge and craft or buy a better sword; that lump of iron will do you no good if it melts at your Voice." He breathed a small jet of fire, and the tip of the blade instantly became molten, dripping languidly into the grass and sizzling. I nodded, and went back to the camp to get my things to travel.

_That was impressive._

I froze.

_What?_

_ The way you fought. It was... impressive._

I scrutinised his tone, looking for any duplicity or sarcasm. When I found none, I sat down and smiled. A warm feeling filled my chest, and a stupid grin kept breaking out on my face.

_Thanks, Luvaasunil._

_ It's nothing_, he muttered, and I could swear he would have been blushing if he still had a body.

_No, it's something. You've never really complimented me before. Thank you, _I said, smiling widely and sincerely. He continued shuffling embarassedly around in the back of my consciousness, and eventually bid me to go. I did, humming happily to myself the whole time.

Dragon Bridge was a quiet village with a small military outpost on the edge of the road, and true to its name, a huge stone bridge with the skull of a dragon mounted on the top led south. A few guards made their rounds throughout the town, and the townspeople went about their daily business. I made my way to the Four Shields Tavern, the largest building in the village, and went inside. A few men, travellers mostly, sat at the tables against the walls, putting cylindres of paper and chopped leaves up to their lips and drawing on them, then exhaling smoke. I retched quietly; the stench was acrid. I didn't know what they were, and neither did my companion.

_What is that that they're breathing? I haven't seen that before_, he said, examining them through my vision.

_I don't know. Should I ask?_

_ Ask the innkeep; most of these _muz _look like they'd get irritated with you._

I stepped cautiously over the little bit of clutter spread on the floor, surreptitiously holding my breath. One of the men in a simple iron breastplace chuckled at my reaction, but moved his legs to let me pass. The innkeep gave me a bored look and continued wiping down the counter.

I pointed at the smoke and whispered,

"What are those? They smell horrible."

She gave a short chuckle and replaced the washcloth under the counter.

"That's tobacco. They grow it in the south of Riften, and some of the travellers have taken a liking to it. I don't smoke it personally," she said, shrugging. "But I've heard that it's a great stress reliever, and that some farms are selling it cheap through the Khajiit caravans. I have some right here if you'd like to try it."

I peered at the thing she brought out from under the table, somewhat curious. It was a small tube of paper with some kind of amber leaf chopped up and rolled in it. One end of the paper was dyed a light orange, and it had a bit of white sponge stuffed in the orange end. The other end was clear, and as I looked back at the men, I realised that it was meant to be lit aflame.

I took it after she said I could have it for free, and wandered over to the traveller in the iron breastplate.

"Do you have a match?" I asked quietly, a bit shy. He chuckled and removed a tindertwig, striking it on his boot and holding it up to the end of my tobacco. When the end was sufficiently lit, he showed me how to use the strange thing.

"Put it between your lips and draw air into your mouth through it," he said. "It'll taste nasty at first, but you'll get used to it. Then take air and the smoke into your lungs, and exhale after a second or two."

I thanked him, and brought the tobacco to my lips, unsure. He gestured, smiling.

_I don't think this is a good idea,_ Luvaasunil fretted. _Just by its smell, I don't like it._

_ Calm down, I'll just have one and then get what I came for._

_ Hm..._

I drew the smoke into my mouth like the man instructed, wincing at the slightly burning, acidic taste. I didn't really see the appeal. When I inhaled air and smoke into my chest, I immediately doubled over, coughing and spitting. Laughs and cheers rang throughout the tavern, and even the stoic innkeeper laughed a bit. It tickled my throat something fierce, and I wasn't eager to take another drag on it.

The man had taken it out of my fingers the instant I had started coughing, for fear I would throw it into the fire. When I came back up, eyes watering, he held it out and I refused.

"It's fine, it's just the first time that gets to you bad. You'll like it, promise," he offered, grinning. So I took it back, and repeated the motion, tensing for another coughing fit. When my throat didn't react as badly the second time, I smiled, relieved.

_Don't you breathe enough fire already?_

_ Shut it, you. I think I like this._

_ I don't. Count me out._

_ Are you the one with a body?_

_ ...Cheap shot._

_ Didn't think so._

I put the tobacco to my lips again, and took another drag. It felt nice; most of my worries from the previous days seemed to melt away, and I felt lighter and heavier, all at the same time. I grinned, leaning back against the table, and the man clapped my shoulder.

"There's a man. I'll let you have the rest of mine; I was just about to walk up to Solitude to get some more. Keep at it if you're pursuing a hard life; it takes the edge off things."

With that, the man counted out three more of the cylindres onto the table and left, taking a female dressed identically with him. She was about as old as I was, and she waved coyly. I blushed and returned to the tobacco.

_Ooh. Do we have a lady friend?_

_ All she did was wave._

_ Is she from the Reach?_

_ Not this again!_

I finished the tobacco, feeling better than I had in months. I was happy, just a little bit carefree, and I felt reinvigorated. It was a nice feeling, and the smoke was a cool effect. I went back over to the innkeep, a question puncturing my silver mood.

"This isn't illegal, is it?" I wondered, and she gave a short bark of a laugh.

"Nah, not yet, at least. It's relatively new; some farmer in the Rift only started growing it a few years ago. And, well, the Legion has bigger fish to catch than tobacco, if you know what I mean."

I grimaced. I did know what she meant. After a little bit more conversastion, I went out back and chopped enough logs to get some coins. When I counted them out, the innkeep had paid me two hundred septims for chopping only two dozen logs. I whistled, impressed.

_The people up here are richer than everybody in Ivarstead put together._

_ It's the capital of the province, and it has one of the only two major trading ports in Skyrim. What did you expect, Whiterun, Volume Two?_

_ I expected to get only sixty septims for twenty-four pieces of chopped wood._

_ Then don't question it, and find somewhere to spend it._

_ Argh. I'm beginning to question my lucidity when I agreed to let you come with us._

_ I was questioning it at the time, but that didn't seem to stop you._

_ Neither did you._

_ Well, that's another matter entirely._

I wandered around until I found a smith. His business was small, but he was in the middle of forging something out of orichalcum, and I offered to pay him for it if it was a sword. He stopped, wiping the sweat off of his brow.

"This was a commissioned piece," he said, not unkindly. "I'm supposed to be blending the Cyrodiilic forging traditions with Orcish smelting and forging practices, and, well... it's not turning out too well. I can give you a piece I've already made, though."

He grabbed a sword that was leaning against the wall. I'd never seen its make or kind before; it was a long, slightly curving blade with one razor-sharp edge. Its handle was wrapped in strips of bloodred ribbon, and the bladeguard was an oblong, ornate piece of golden artistry.

"They call it a _katana_," he boomed, proud of his work. "It's originally from those Akaviri people, but they bled over into Skyrim, and they're actually pretty decent bladesmiths. Well, they were. I was given a book that showed me how to forge them just right, and right now they're my most popular pieces. Would you like to see it?"

I nodded, eyes wide. It was a completely new type of blade, and just by barely tapping its edge, I drew a line of blood on my finger. It was made out of a sturdy metal that I didn't recognise, and no matter how much I bent it, it didn't break. The edge was integrated into the main body of the blade with a wavy, distorted pattern, and the handle was made out of very fine wood.

"How much for this?"

"Two hundr... No, one hundred and eighty."

I groaned. That was most of what I had, but it was a very fair price for the masterful katana. I paid it, and the man showed me how to tie it to my back so that it wouldn't fall off and so that it wouldn't get caught on the scabbard when I drew it. He eyed my destroyed iron sword, and grimaced.

"You aren't thinking of keeping that, are you?"

"No, I was going to throw it away. Why?"

"Ack! Never throw away a perfectly good piece of iron!" he cried, grasping for the blade. I pulled back slightly and eyed him with a conspiratorial grin.

_Should I?_

_ We need coin._

_ But should I?_

_ Up to you._

I haggled with the man for a few minutes, and he eventually paid me twenty septims for the blade, which I handed over gratefully. He seemed surprised, and caught my shoulder before I left.

"Sorry to trouble you, but I have a question. How did this blade get melted like this?"

I shrugged.

"Left it sitting near a fire."

He frowned.

"Iron doesn't melt next to ordinary fires unless you left it _in _a fire."

"That's what happened."

"I'll take your word for it," he grumbled, pitching the sword into a junk pile and returning to his work. I thanked him for his generosity and started to make my way back to the camp.

Halfway there, Luvaasunil stopped me.

_What's wr-_

_ Shut up._

_ Dragon, what in Oblivion is-_

_ Silence!_

I fell quiet. We both listened for a while, but heard nothing other than the distant sounds of the town. He sighed irritably, shaking his head.

_Thought I heard something. Never mind, keep going._

Now it was my turn to be suspicious. I kept my face blank and whispered, "_Laas_."

Humanoid forms were suddenly visible for fifty metres ahead, concealed in the bushes. They seemed to sense that they had been discovered, and I ripped the katana out of its sheath as bandits crashed, whooping and yelling, out of the bushes.

_Run!_

_ No!_

I waited for the first of them to reach me, and then I Shouted.

"_Yol Toor! Fiik... Lo Sah!_"

The combined effort dropped me down to one knee, but the stench of burning flesh was satisfying, as were the first fifteen bandits' screams as they died flaming. My copy - "phantom Sivaas," as Fahulkaal called it - stood at attention, and I commanded him to attack the bandits. He did with great gusto, repeating the only words of mine that he'd heard.

"How in Oblivion?" he screamed, decapitating a bandit and echoing the dwindling number of survivors. "Oh, you like hearing me talk? Then have some of _this!_"

Bandits both alive and dead went flying as some fled for their lives and others were blasted away by the Thu'um of _Sivaas-sah_. When no more of the highwaymen were in sight, he returned to a neutral position, sheathing his katana and standing still. I walked over to him unsteadily, still rocking from the double Shouting.

_How do I get rid of him?_

_ You could just stab him._

_ No, that'd feel like a betrayal._

_ It isn't even alive in the first place._

_ Does that mean he isn't aware?_

_ ...Touche. Just say 'vanish.'_

"_Vognun!_" I cried, and my clone disappeared with a smile and a wave.

* * *

**A/N:** Shor's bones, a lot happened in this chapter. I'm pretty sure it's the longest one yet. I had a lot of fun with the clone, although you guys probably won't see him again. Whether phantom Sivaas is actually aware is up to you!

If anybody has a problem with Sivaas smoking, then please don't assail me with your complaints. It's going to be a plot device crucial to the climax of the story, which we're actually pretty far from at this point. Keep in mind that what you're perceiving as "wrong" in relation to smoking is based on laws that do not apply in the Empire.

Argh. Please don't make me defend my work. If you don't like it, then don't read it. Okay?

You know the drill by now. Read, rate, review, et cetera!


	12. 12: Goodbye, Dii Fahdon Hello, Dii Kein

Over the next few months, I stayed in Haafingar, training with Fahulkaal, Luvaasunil, and my countless ethereal copies. Once every two weeks, I would venture into Solitude and get supplies like books and spell tomes, learning the basic arcane arts. I would frequently stop by Dragon Bridge, as it was only a few hours' walk north, and pick up food, firewood if I could help it, and the latest news on the Civil War.

Neither side seemed to be gaining ground, a fact that I was vaguely pleased with. Legion troops frequently marched across the Dragon Bridge to destinations unknown, and every time the clamour would echo across the landscape, we would briefly pause until we were sure that the regiment wasn't coming our way. As far as I knew, nobody knew where I was camping, and nobody knew that Fahulkaal was there either.

The days shortened, and snow fell regularly enough that I had to get warmer clothes. An impending beard came out on my face, patches of stubble appearing erratically on my lips and jowls. By Evening Star, I was nearly proficient with the Voice, more than versed in Destruction and Restoration magics, and my Akaviri katana, which I had dubbed '_Vey_," served me well. It only dulled occasionally, and I had more than enough whetstones to quickly fix the problem.

The valley now would regularly ring with my attempts to slay _Sivaas-sah_, and duels would go on for an hour at the shortest and half a day at the longest. I was careful to restrain my Thu'um during the frequent battles, not wanting to alert whatever hid in caverns and ruins of my presence and not wanting to give the phantom any more skill than it already had. My sixteenth birthday came and went during this time, and I said nothing. Luvaasunil noticed, and gave me a short serenade that had me in stitches.

_Happy birthday, dragonkin! Happy birthday, dragonkin! Happy birthday, scaleless hatchliiiiiing... Happy birthday, dragonkin!_

I also managed to get myself attached to the _gelenkii_, as Fahulkaal called them. The tobacco was a constant comfort, and the Khajiiti caravans gave me a fair price for twenty in a bundle; fifteen septims. Other places started to sell them, sensing their popularity, but their prices were elevated to the point of madness. Who in their right mind would pay fifty septims for fifteen _gelenkii_ when the caravans were making a killing already and still keeping low prices on them?

I accidentally used the name one night in the Four Shields Tavern, and apparently the name travelled to the point where that became their common label. I discovered this a few weeks later, when a group of travellers offered me a pack of them for lower than the caravans charged and used the name.

"Where did you hear that name?" I said, trying to maintain a casual air. They simply looked at me strangely.

"That's what they're being called nowadays. Faida over there says some kid came up with it. Don't know what it means in whatever language it came from, only that it's catchy," they said, shrugging.

Both of my dragon companions didn't like the smell, so I would wait until one or both of them were asleep or otherwise indisposed and unable to smell it, and then venture off into some trees and light the end of a _gelenkii_ with my newfound Destruction powers. If anything, it helped me apply certain amounts of magicka to specific areas, increasing my proficiency with the school. I liked them a lot; the man who had helped me smoke my first had spoken words that still rang true. They relieved stress like you wouldn't believe, and provided a way to calm down after all the alarum and conflict of a training day. Their only detriment was the withdrawal I suffered if I ran out and couldn't get any for the next few days. I trembled and broke into sweats frequently, unable to concentrate. Fahulkaal would grimace and give me a few hours to gather myself, which I usually did.

Our little encampment was bothered by bandits only twice, a problem that was easily solved. A problem that wasn't so easily resolved was the sabre-toothed tiger that kept prowling down south, where we could just barely see it. It snarled and looked like it wanted to do something about our presence, but Fahulkaal's bulk and general predatory scariness kept it away. Eventually, I had to deal with it, and received a very nasty scratch on my left hand that I wouldn't let either of them heal.

"It's better to keep it," I reasoned. "I want a memento of that fight. It was long and taxing, and the tiger fought well. I want to have something to remember it by."

"Then keep the pelt," Fahulkaal rumbled, emerald irises flicking between my face and the cut.

"No, it's fine. I need to sell that anyways; I can't keep chopping firewood forever."

_Why not? You're pretty good at that, at least. Unlike your feeble attempts at Restoration, _the spirit quipped, sniggering.

_I'll restore you right out of my head_, I growled, sitting at the campfire and cleaning the pelt with a knife.

The pain made a shield difficult to hold, but it soon faded and I had an impressive scar on my hand to show for the conflict.

Evening Star came and went, and so did Morning Star and all the months afterwards. Before I realised it, we had spent almost a year in the same spot, and the valley had our marks on it. Packs of wolves had moved away, and a bandit clan had noticed us and relocated in a southerly direction, not wanting to tangle with the boy that somehow managed to slay all of their advance scouts seemingly without help. I'd cleared a few caves and scared off a few dragons (with help), and all in all things were looking up. Not many towns had been attacked, and the ones that had were able to drive off the dragons in question, and most didn't return. So things were looking up.

That thought, in and of itself, should have tipped me off that things were about to hit the fan.

I made the journey to Dragon Bridge right before dusk, and by the time I arrived, light snow was falling out of the dark sky, and the beautiful auroras twisted and writhed like great cosmic snakes. I smiled up at the heavens as I came into town, letting my breath crystallise in front of me. I didn't see the harried courier until I bumped into him and we both went sprawling.

"Aah, I'm sorry!" I cried, helping the boy up and dusting him off. He looked younger than I was, but he was haggard and gasping for breath. My good mood vanished like candle smoke, and a chill that had nothing to do with the weather played across my skin. He started to take off again, but my hand on his shoulder stopped him briefly.

"What's happened? What message are you carrying?" I said seriously, meeting his frantic eyes.

"I can't..." he began pleadingly, but I waved a hand, cutting him off.

"Would you tell the Dragonborn?" I murmured, grinning at his reaction.

He was unsure, and that gave me the leverage I needed to convince him.

"Look," I told him, holding out a hand. I breathed _yol_, and called forth a ball of flame in my palm at the same instant. Not as impressive as the full Shout roaring through the air, but better for a quiet setting, and it certainly did the trick. I closed my hand, causing the flames to vanish. He stared at me with a mixture of hopefulness, fear, and admiration, and he finally gave me his message.

"You know Helgen, that outpost in the Jeralls, down south? Near the border?"

I nodded, fear gripping my throat. I'd been there, made friends with the residents. Knew most of them, from long ago, when I was still at High Hrothgar.

"Burned to the ground. Sacked. By a dragon," he whispered. "They had Ulfric Stormcloak, ambushed him and his vanguard near Darkwater Crossing. They took the entire regiment to Helgen, and they were about to kill... behead him. Then the dragon attacked, and the entire town was reduced to rubble. There wasn't anything that hurt it... I live in Riverwood, I saw the thing. It was heading north, towards Whiterun. It was big as the bridge and black as night, and flew right over the barrow on the mountainside near town. The Jarl told me to deliver the message to Jarl Elisif and to flee here. He's evacuating the city, and everybody's either heading to Eastmarch or here. I'm the first of a long line of people."

I sucked air through my teeth. My entire body tingled, and my vision sharpened. This was really happening. Helgen, razed to nothing. Whiterun, evacuated. Refugees coming along the road, where they could be killed and raided. Things were heating up, and if this black dragon was what I thought it was...

"Go, deliver your message. Don't stay outside, and watch the skies," I said tersely, spinning him away and sending him forward with a light push. As soon as I was sure he was going, I spun around and ran into the Four Shields, casting about for Faida. When I didn't see her, I grabbed the kettle next to the long fireplace, slammed it onto the stone floor, and shouted until she came out, hair a mess and eyes wild.

"What in Oblivion are you doing?" she snarled, unconsciously smoothing out her nightwear.

"Helgen's been sacked. Whiterun's been evacuated, and there are refugees en route to Haafingar. You need to prepare for a surplus of people."

She squinted.

"How do you know this?"

"Courier from Whiterun just came by, heading to the Blue Palace."

"Didn't give you his name or anything?"

"No."

She sighed and grabbed a broom.

"Thanks for the news. I'll tell everyone when they wake up. I'm not going back to bed tonight, so I might as well start preparing."

I winced and apologised, then sped back to the camp. Luvaasunil was in one of his resting cycles, and I could tell he was tired. I didn't want to wake him until I had to.

When I got back to the camp, Fahulkaal was already awake, having heard my frantic pace and sensing that something was amiss. He rose slightly, eyes twinkling in the meager light.

"Fos frahzogin, Sivaas?" _What news, Sivaas?_

"A town near the Skyrim-Cyrodiil border's been burnt to the ground by a black dragon that was last seen heading to Whiter- _Ahrolsedovah_. The Jarl's evacuated the city; people are fleeing to Haafingar - that's here - and Eastmarch, where Windhelm is."

"Windhelm? _Hiimsejun_?" _City-of-Kings?_

"Yes, apologies," I said, waving a hand.

Fahulkaal grumbled, laying down.

"This is indeed dark news. I am sure you already suspect who the black _dovah_ is, but speculation is useless now. _Ahrolsedovah _was not prepared for Luvaasunil; how can they be prepared for this?"

"The answer is simple; they can't," I replied darkly, knitting my brows together. I stood suddenly, and started packing the camp.

Fahulkaal rose his head in surprise.

"You aren't thinking of going back, are you?"

I nodded roughly, stuffing a pile of books into a sack and tying it shut.

"If this _dovah-ved_ is Alduin, you will suffer the same fate as the town that he destroyed. He cannot be killed by ordinary means!"

Rousing himself quickly, Luvaasunil chimed in.

_Fahulkaal is correct. Alduin is impervious to most physical attacks. Warriors have even tried attacking from inside his stomach, to no avail. The most that can happen is that you wear down his _rah-qah_ - his god-armour - enough to force him to return briefly to Sovngarde. Then, he will come back a week later with all injuries and weaknesses healed, at full strength._

I stopped packing, frustrated. A distinct sense of deja vu settled on my shoulders.

"Then what should I - we - do? To sit here idly would be foolish."

"True; that is why we will train until Alduin seeks you out."

"Are you serious? Please tell me you aren't serious."

_We are deadly serious, Sivaas. To attempt to fight Alduin at this juncture would be pointless at best and lethal at worst. The instant he scores a lucky hit on you that snaps your spine, the world will end. The Divines are watching every move you make, and the instant you die, the game of chess is over. Checkmate. Everybody loses._

"Then what happens when Whiterun is burned completely? It'll be reduced to the biggest pile of ash Skyrim has ever seen, and then Alduin will move on. If he comes north, we're done for."

"If Ahrolsedovah falls, then these are dark times indeed and it would be best for you to return to your masters. There is almost nothing more I can do for you, Sivaas, other than offer my aid in combat."

_I agree with both sentiments. We are nearing the end of our usefulness to you, and the most I can do is offer portable entertainment. If Whiterun is overtaken, then you must return to High Hrothgar with all haste. If it is not, then you need to at least begin to venture out of Haafingar to help with dragon attacks._

Fahulkaal wrinkled his nose.

"No. It is true that he should return to the Greybeards if Ahrolsedovah falls, but if not, he needs to stay here."

I glanced at the living dragon and watched the spectral one inside my mind. Were they about to argue?

_We have tarried here far too long for our own good_, Luvaasunil said with a measured calmness, gauging the extent of the other dragon's determination carefully. _Staying and training longer will only serve to mire us for another few months. We need to start tracking down aggressive dragons or the dovah that have fallen in with the World-Eater and slaying them._

"Not yet," Fahulkaal asserted. "None of us are ready. The _dovah_ that rally behind Alduin are older and stronger than all of us, Sivaas included. We could not slay a single one of them without sustaining great or even fatal injuries. Do you know the name 'Fonirzilf?'"

_I do, yes._

"She is one of the _dovah_ that have joined Alduin's forces. I have engaged in... ahem, in battle with her before. She is much more powerful than I."

_And I am more powerful than you. I have crossed paths with Fonirzilf before; we are equally matched._

"But you lack a _kopraan _to fight her with," the bronze _dovah_ chuckled.

_Then I will assail her mind, and you may kill her. Or Sivaas could do it, if I subdued her._

"I doubt that greatly. There are many more of the _dov_ that have allied with Alduin, Luvaasunil. We are at a severe disadvantage fighting one, much less the several that our quarry will undoubtedly call to its aid."

_While that may be, we cannot rest on our haunches any longer. Something must be done before the _joorre _weaken themselves any further, and before Alduin's forces gain any more ground._

"You certainly weren't impeding their efforts with your rampage," Fahulkaal growled.

_I didn't help them, either. Their goal is domination; mine was simply a meal. By destroying parts of the Hold, I made everybody's task harder._

"That you did."

_It is pointless to argue about my actions now, _especially_ now. We need to begin an assault as soon as we have the necessary provisions._

"And what, pray tell, might those be? A magical sword that slays dragons on contact? A spell or Shout that reduces them to dust? Each and every battle we enter will carry a large risk of our demise, and the best way to diminish that risk is to train!"

_Each and every day we live carries a large risk of our demise. If we do nothing, the situation will deteriorate into irreparability, and sooner than you might believe. Training is over and done with, unless Whiterun is lost. We need to act._

Fahulkaal started to retort, but Luvaasunil cut him off.

_Look around you! _he roared, temper suddenly blazing. _Entire Holds are being cleared. Men and women are fleeing at their rulers' behest because they cannot continue to live in the conditions that they fly from. Dragons are attacking rampantly, and only the valiant efforts of a few _joorre_ are keeping them from turning the entire province into one giant campfire. And we have in our company the strongest of men! If we do nothing and continue to hide here, then we are doing both the Dragonborn and Skyrim as a whole a disservice. We are the only ones who can stop this, or at least turn the tide in the mortals' favour. If we do nothing, we might as well have killed each and every man with our own teeth and claws. Would you sit idly in a cave that was collapsing, thinking that you needed to build more supports before the rock crushed your head?_

_ See reason_, Luvaasunil implored, almost begging. _Haafingar has done its best for us, and now it has expended its usefulness. It is time to return the World-Eater's aggression tenfold. There is kin to be killed, and while it is most certainly distasteful, fate has dropped this world into our laps, and if we do nothing, everything and everyone will die. We. Must. Go._

Fahulkaal was silent, and his expression was inscrutable. When he finally spoke, it was with no small amount of weariness and sorrow.

"If you leave... then leave without me. I will have no part of this insanity. There is still much that Sivaas has not learned, and there may be a key piece of information that we do not know that may help us in this quest. I will stay here and search for it in the ancient ruins that dot the landscape, but do not expect me to suddenly find an answer to a question that has been asked since long ago. Whatever you do is on your own heads."

I cleared my throat pointedly. Both dragons observed me, somewhat startled.

"This is a dire turn of events," I began, steeling myself for the counterarguments that would be levelled at me now. "But Luvaasunil is correct. If we continue to sit here, then I might as well march up to Solitude and start killing the townspeople, for all the good it will do. I have learned the basics, and for right now, that must be enough. Alduin has made his presence known, and if he is on his way to attack Whiterun, then we must make our way there to aid in the defenses.

"But neither should we blindly rush into war, for we will trip over the corpses of our predecessors and die. I want to visit the Greybeards, preferably before whatever conflict arises in Whiterun. They were not finished with their tutelage when I left, and I suspect that they know what has happened. They always do, somehow. I have known them my entire life, and in all cases, their judgement has turned out to be true, if a little hard to swallow. Until now, blind luck or the help of my friends has saved me from death. From this point forward, neither will be with me. If I am to survive, then I need to learn as much as I can, as fast as I can."

I indicated that I was finished and resumed my seat on the ground.

"That... was well said," Fahulkaal murmured, and Luvaasunil concurred. The living dragon stood determinedly, and shook his head slowly.

"You have matured, Sivaas, but not enough. I do not think that you are the boy who fled from your monastery, but neither do I think that you are the man who will defeat Alduin, or any other truly powerful _dovah_ that you encounter. You are... _ko nix_, in between. It is not my decision to make whether or not to leave, nor is it Luvaasunil's. This is your choice, and while I may not like it, I will abide by it."

A flare of hope erupted in my chest. He was coming with us!

"But," he rumbled, "I will not accompany you on any more of your misadventures. I have watched you bleed, cry, fight, scream, and proclaim your status to the heavens, and I desire no more of this conflict. I have fought against my kin for thousands of years, and I am _tired_, Sivaas. I will not accompany you any longer should you choose to leave."

My heart sank, and I was torn. Keep a close companionship or try to save a city?

At gentle prodding from Luvaasunil, I came up to Fahulkaal's neck and tried to wrap my arms around it, giving him a great hug. I felt tears spring to my eyes and I let them run. This would likely be the last we'd ever see of each other. He held a winged claw gently to my back, and bent his head to touch my shoulder.

"Pruzahguur, Dovahkiin," he said quietly, a single drop of moisture rolling off of his snout. _Goodbye, Dragonborn_.

"Pruzahguur, vahlok. Aal hi siiv faal drem hi smaal." _Goodbye, guardian. May you find the peace you desire._

Not wanting to prolong either of our sufferings, I quickly packed the camp and began to walk to Dragon Bridge. Just before he fell out of view, I turned and looked at his majestic, regal, powerful form once more, just to emblazon him in my mind.

"Zu'u fen ni vodahmaan ho," I whispered, feeling a lump form in my throat as I turned away and continued walking. _I will not forget you_.

_That was dramatic._

_ Shut it. Surely you realise that we won't be seeing each other again? The Legion will likely send scouting parties into the surrounding areas to lend an early warning if a dragon decides to attack, and the instant they find him, he's dead. Barring that, he won't stay there forever, and once he leaves, I'll have no idea where to find him, and I can only call him from so far. Warriors might kill him, another dragon might kill him... hell, he might even just break an ankle or something, and that would prove deadly if something like a spriggan discovered him._

_ True. But_-

A deep, heartrending wail echoed through the air, and I stopped, dropping into a crouch. I started to pull my sword from its scabbard, but replaced it at Luvaasunil's request.

_What's going on?_

_ He's mourning_, he said gently, urging me forward. _Leave him be. This is difficult for all of us, but it was his choice not to follow you. Let's go. The quicker we get a horse, the better._

I cast a longing look over my shoulder one more time, then broke into a run.

* * *

**A/N:** Excuse me while I try to find the pieces of my feels


	13. 13: Wolves and Old Friends

Without Fahulkaal, the journey to Whiterun took almost two weeks of hard riding and sleeping in the saddle. We passed through Rorikstead, which was nearly overflowing with mercenaries and adventurers, who were slowly filtering out to the evacuated city. Streams of refugees still wound throughout the countryside, faces as worn and battle-scarred as the courier's. Huge encampments of guards from other Holds dotted the borders, though none of them wanted to make the trip to Whiterun's capital to assist.

As we drew nearer and nearer to the city, the marks of war became obvious. Huge swatches of land were burnt or dug up, and the rubble of a watchtower still had fresh blood on its stones when Dragonsreach came into view, towering over its once-great city. I rode up to the crossroads just before dawn outside the stables and caught my breath, examining the city.

Its walls were in an even greater state of disrepair than from my last visit. Nothing wooden remained outside the walls, and a half-dozen buildings inside were now gone. Dragonsreach itself showed no damage other than an ominous set of claw marks as long as the front gate down its side. I shivered. There was death here.

As I dismounted, four guards rushed over from the main gate and drew their blades, bidding me to halt. I did, raising my hands. An older man, dressed in a typical guard's attire but with a much nicer sword, stepped forward with a suspicious expression.

"State your name and business," he growled. "Whiterun is at war, and civilians must vacate the city white it's under attack."

I spoke carefully. The man had an air of authority, and I would bet my last septim that he was the captain of the guard.

"My name is Sivaas Ah, and I'm here to help in the defence of the city," I said carefully. The guards chuckled, but one kept looking at me strangely, trying to place where he knew me from.

"We don't need any more help. There's already been a few mercenaries that have shown up. Our defences are built, and we have enough men to drive back the force we're expecting. Be on your way."

"Captain," the guard said, moving close behind the man. He whispered in his ear, but I caught what the guard relayed.

"I know this kid," he muttered, flicking his nervous gaze over to me. "Came here a bit more than a year ago. He could Shout, and he claimed to be the Dragonborn."

The captain's eyes widened, and he gave me a once-over. He made a gesture, and the company of guards sheathed their weapons. He straightened up and rested a leathery hand on the hilt of his blade.

"Folar here thinks you're Dragonborn," he said, not unkindly. The other guards looked at Folar incredulously, and he nodded. A few of the guards piped up excitedly, almost daring to believe the tale.

"Prove it!"

"This kid isn't the Dragonborn. That's just a legend."

"No, I saw him Shout, and he was here when we got hit last year. I saw him in Dragonsreach, too, right before that dragon came through the roof."

"Quiet!" the captain barked, and the men fell silent. He turned back to me with a hopeful glint gracing his stone-grey eyes.

"If you're the Dragonborn, then Shout for us."

_Here we go_, Luvaasunil stated, and I grinned.

_What should I say?_

_ I think firebreath would be your best option. The full Shout._

_ Great minds think alike._

_ Ha!_

I motioned for them to move back, and they simultaneously took a generous helping of steps backwards. They were watching me expectantly, and a sense of power rose into my throat. This would be fun.

"_Yol... Toor... SHUUL!_"

A massive tongue of flame roared to life out of my mouth, and it reached hungrily upwards into the air, lighting a twenty-metre radius. The sound was almost deafening, and heat assailed the guards, making them sweat in their armour. Immediately after the fire dissipated, they started whooping and cheering, exulting in the presence of a legend.

"Dragonborn! Shor's bones, it's actually him!"

"That dragon's in for it now!"

"We're saved! Long live Whiterun!"

"I guess the _dragon _part of 'Dragonborn' applies!" one guard said, to laughter from all present.

The captain was slackjawed for a moment, but then his face switched to a gracious, amicable smile, and he shook my hand vigourously.

"Apologies for my dishonourable behaviour, Dragonborn," he said cordially. "I meant no disrespect. Welcome to Whiterun. I'm Caius."

"I took no offence," I said, equally friendly. "I understand that it's a bit hard to believe. So, what's the state of the city, how many men do you have, and how well can you repulse a dragon?"

The guards coughed into their elbows, and Caius grimaced.

"Not nearly as good as I previously said. We've had to rebuild parts of the walls in a hurry, and the main gate is more or less a pile of sticks nailed together. Our guardtowers are mostly burned, and many of the buildings inside the walls are no more. We're in a bad way, but I think the Divines have just sent us our salvation," he said, a tired smile returning to his face. The guards cheered again, and two ran back inside the walls with permission from their captain.

As we walked back up to the city, I obtained more details on the state of the defences and kept a running dialogue with most of the guards. One of them pressed a map of the city into my hand, and I unrolled it. Buildings that had burned were marked with red X's, partially burned buildings were marked with red triangles, defences were marked with black squares, and exits from the city were marked with black circles. With a sinking feeling, I noted the number of burned houses.

"How many casualties so far?" I said quietly as we came to the gate. Caius grimaced again.

"About forty. Hard to count. The dragon hasn't returned in a few days, and the Jarl's wizard wants to declare the state of emergency over on the grounds that it's moved on. None of the guards think so, and neither does the Jarl. We're still at high alert, and we're undermanned and overstretched. I don't think you realise what a blessing your arrival is."

"No, I think I've got the general idea," I chuckled as part of the gate fell to the paved stone with a loud crash.

The apothecary, nearly five houses, and the barracks near the gate had all been reduced to piles of smoking rubble. The general goods store, a hunting supplies shop, the smithy near the gate, and the temple of Kynareth had all sustained damage, along with Dragonsreach. The mead hall, Jorrvaskr, was quite fine, despite its dry wood structure and great hearth within. The Companions were walking through the city, lending help with whatever they could and even helping a lost child to find his mother. I recognised a red-haired woman with a bow lifting a beam off of a body, and I rushed over. It took me a second to recall her name.

"Aela?" I called, jogging into the wreckage of the apothecary. She turned, wariness etched into her expression, but when I came up, she broke into a huge grin.

"Dragonborn! It has been too long."

To my complete surprise, she embraced me warmly, then held me at arms' length by my shoulders, looking me up and down.

"You've certainly matured," she said appraisingly, and I blushed, waving away her compliments.

"I've had a lot of time to train."

"Indeed you have," she laughed. "That was some encounter last year, hm? Think of what a great tale that would have made; the Dragonborn stops the Companions singlehandedly, then flies away on a dragon."

My heart lurched at the reminder of Fahulkaal, but I smiled anyways.

"It wasn't necessarily _on_ the dragon as it was _in _the dragon," I quipped, and she burst out into gales of laughter.

"That certainly was a sight to see," she gasped, wiping tears away. "It just took you in its mouth and fled east. Vilkas was sure we'd been conned and that dragon was about to eat you alive. I couldn't stop laughing the whole way back. Would've made for a fantastic lay or ballad."

I nodded, still smiling and aching inwardly. Before we could resume our conversation, another familiar face came into the apothecary. It was the long-haired twin, and he too burst out into a great smile as he beheld me.

"Dragonborn!" he exclaimed in a gravelly voice. "I missed you! Some flight, hunh?"

We all started chuckling again, and for a moment, I could pretend that they were my friends. But I barely knew them, and they didn't even know my name. Just my title.

"Well, I've got to get back to clearing this burnt-out husk of a shop," Aela said, dusting her hands off and sighing. "Skjor wants it cleaned so Vilkas and you can start rebuilding it."

The twin groaned good-naturedly, but clapped a meaty hand on my shoulder.

"You should come back with me to Jorrvaskr," he rumbled, grinning again. "We told everybody about you, but nobody believed us, not even when Vilkas told it. Come on, we don't bite!"

Aela gave a quick snort of mirth, then hurriedly returned to her task. I wondered at its significance, but accompanied the broad-shouldered Companion back to the mead hall. Luvaasunil was uneasy for some reason, but he didn't voice a complaint until I asked him on the way.

_What's the problem?_

_ These Companions... they don't feel right._

_ What do you mean?_

_ They're like you; they're housing two souls inside of them, and they're doing an excellent job of hiding the other._

My skin came up in goosebumps.

_What does this mean?_

_ It means they aren't what they appear to be. Stay alert around them; they may seem as cordial as could be, but the other soul... it's feral. Bloodthirsty. It keeps whispering to them._

_ Show me_, I demanded, and my eyes throbbed as he took them over. The twin next to me was saying something, but I ignored him. I could see his life-force, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

_I don't see anything wr... _I started to say, but I trailed off as a dark, malevolent wisp became visible, threaded throughout the twin's soul. I could just barely hear what it was saying, but what I could make out chilled me to the bone.

_Kill the child, _it whispered insidiously. _Kill it and feast on its heart. Kill it and soak in its blood. Kill... kill it. Kill it! Rend it to shreds! Dine on its flesh! Kill it! Kill it! Rip! Tear! Kill! KILL!_

I stopped in the middle of the street, staring at the twin. His smile faded as he saw my horrified expression. He stepped towards me, asking what was wrong, but I slid backwards a good three metres, keeping my eyes locked on him. How had I not noticed this before?

"What are you?" I barked tersely, surreptitiously reaching for my blade. He adopted a pseudo-calm expression, and tried to soothe me by holding up his hands. I took another step backwards. Eyes started to turn our way. Good. Whatever he was, he was less likely to attack me if people were watching. After a minute, he caught on and his face twisted into a helpless mask of fear.

"You can see it?" he whispered in a small, scared voice. I nodded, still suspicious. I cast a cautious glance over my shoulder. I felt hunted, and it wasn't a nice feeling.

_If he so much as blinks wrong, I'm blasting him to smithereens._

_ Your choice. But hear him out first._

The twin let out a huge gasp of air, seemingly relieved. I flinched and my hand shot up to the handle of my katana.

"It's a curse, given to the Companions by Hircine," he began, trying to keep his voice low so nobody would hear him. He looked about in the street fearfully, then leaned in close. I jumped and skidded away again.

"Can we please talk somewhere less... open?" he said, and I shook my head forcefully.

"Here or not at all," I snarled.

"Look, you can keep your blade on my neck the whole time, just please, not in the middle of the street. It isn't just my curse, and the Companions keep secrets for good reasons. Please," he implored, and I finally relented, jerking my head towards an alley. We ducked in, and I pressed the point of my blade to his adam's apple.

"Start talking, fast."

"The Companions were cursed a long time ago by a witch coven. We have blood that lets us turn into beasts. We... lose control when we're in the beast form, but we're sane when we're human."

Luvaasunil exclaimed pridefully, glad that he knew the answer to this riddle.

_They're werewolves! _he cried, strutting about in my head.

_Oh. That makes sense._

_ Of course it does. It's the right answer._

_ Are they dangerous?_

_ Not normally, no. This guy - and that Aela woman - are exercising a good bit of control over their beasts, more than I've seen in any other lycanthrope. He doesn't want to hurt you._

_ But that... thing... does._

_ Of course it does; it's a daedric wolf spirit. He's ignoring it, and being as hospitable as he can be. My guess is that the Companions hide their wolfblood to keep people from doing exactly what you just did._

_ And what, pray tell, did I just do?_

_ Jumped to conclusions when you didn't know all the facts._

Shame coloured my mind, and Luvaasunil settled, satisfied.

_Release the poor man and try to make amends. He's done nothing to hurt you._

I did, sheathing my blade. I stared at my boots, unable to meet his puppy-dog chocolate eyes.

"I'm so sorry," I said, face reddening and guilt gnawing at my chest. "I didn't know... I jumped to conclusions rashly and irresponsibly. Please forgive me..."

"It's alright," he murmured comfortingly, embracing me warmly. I returned his hug, then let the tall warrior stand upright. Before we left the narrow alleyway, he held up a finger.

"You have to promise not to say anything when we get to Jorrvaskr," he said, fake sternness echoing in his tone. "Not all of the Companions are werewolves. Just a few. Most everybody doesn't even know that we're... monsters."

I snapped my gaze up to his incredulously, comprehending the damage that my actions had done.

"You aren't monsters!" I exclaimed, reaching for his shoulders and missing on account of his height. I smoothly settled for his forearms and grasped them, meeting his self-conscious gaze.

"You aren't monsters," I repeated. "You're warriors. You're human. Whatever that wolf does using your body doesn't make it your fault, because it's the wolf doing it. You aren't monsters."

Tears of gratitude sprang to his eyes, and he hurriedly wiped them away, thanking me. We resumed our walk to his home, talking like old friends. We exchanged names, and many other details of our lives. His name was Farkas.

_Ohohoho_, Luvaasunil chortled. _Somebody likes the big puppy dog._

_ What?_ I cried, trying and failing to stifle a brief flash of embarrassment.

_You do, you do! I can see it! Right... there!_

He pointed to a warm glow of affection that kept darting to the front of my mind. I tried to stuff it somewhere he couldn't see, but he followed it, cackling gleefully.

_Oh, sweet skies above, this is hilarious! He's, what, fifteen - no, twenty - years your elder?_

_ I don't like him like that! _I roared, my face flushing beet red. _He's a friend!_

_ Oh, really? Reeeaaally? Then what's _that_? _he retorted triumphantly. He pointed at an emotion, closely tied with the friendly affection, almost unnoticeable. It was just a tiny, tiny bit of love.

_It's love for friends, not for romanticism! Grow up!_

_ I'm a few millenia your senior, and you tell me to grow up?_

_ Maturity isn't based on physical age_, I growled, pushing him roughly into a corner of my consciousness. He simply rebounded, laughter increasing tenfold.

_Neither is love!_

Giving him a terrific shove, I turned my attention to the doors of Jorrvaskr that loomed in front of me. Not daring to give the sniggering dragon more ammunition, I quickly pushed my way inside.

* * *

**A/N:** Ohohoho. It doesn't matter what kind of Dovahkiin you have, Farkas shipping is always a thing at _some _point. I'm not going to expand on it, because there's a little thing called pedophilia, but you get the general idea.

I'm going to miss Fahulkaal, but there's a good chance that he'll pop up at some point later, briefly.

I love Whiterun dearly, but I had to destroy it for love! And war! Or both! Kind of neither! Doesn't matter! So Whiterun's basically at war with a nameless dragon (It's not going to be Alduin; that's like starting a game, then immediately trying to take on a giant. You gon' die.) and Sivaas just embroiled himself with the Companions.

I'm torn as to whether or not he should actually be inducted as an honourary member, just for the battle. What do you guys think?

This is actually all I've written at the moment, so updates aren't all going to be in the same day from now on unless I lose my connection for a good bit of time. I am now officially open to all requests for this story, and for requests for other things as well!

For those of you who are trying to send me commissions; my blog is down (Tumblr is doing something right now to fix Heartbleed, and it won't let me log in T^T ) and my PayPal account is having trouble as well (legal issues with PayPal). Therefore, just send me a PM on here for requests, and I won't charge you anything at all! Free commissions! Oh gods, I'm never going to be paid ever again. Aaarrrgh.

Read, rate, review! Or don't. The magical advice of Sheogorath still holds. Cheese for everybody!


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